The story I never wanted
by Aoibhinn
Summary: I, Bella Swann, didn't get a happy ending. I got 500 years as an immortal and now they want me to escort a small person to destroy a ring of power. Why not? it's not like I'm doing much else with the rest of my eternity. B/OC, J/OC. NOT FOR EDWARD LOVERS.
1. Once upon a doughnut craving

_Disclaimer: Twilight stuff owned by Stephanie Meyer. Lord of the Rings stuff owned by J.R.R Tolkien._

Prologue: Life isn't perfect, but it will give you layers

Change. Growth. Mutated. Morphed. All these words pretty much mean the same thing, yet I don't like using any of them. None seem strong enough or long enough or complex enough to label why I am the way I am. Not to be narcissistic, but before we begin I need to explain a bit. Once you get to know me, you understand I wasn't born this way. I hope to God no one can be born the way I am now. Like some people would put it, I have layers. A hell of a lot more layers than when I got started.

Most people out there that know my story don't really know my story. Sorry kids, but I didn't end up with the perfect, immortal husband or the extra-special, immortal daughter (who the hell would name their child "Renesmee" anyway?) So, as you can guess, my life didn't turn out as the perfect happily ever after. Want to know why….because life _isn't_ perfect!

Not that life is all bad. No, there exists a whole lot of good, but come on!

Now people are wondering what all is different. Well, as you can see, I'm a bit more sarcastic and snappier than before. Thank you God! I've read my writing from those days and all I pretty much wrote was, "Edward is perfect.", "I love Edward.", "I might kinda love Jacob, but I still really love Edward!", and "I can't wait to be Mrs. Bella Cullen…I love Edward!"

Back then I didn't have too many layers. Those layers started showing up the year after I moved to Forks, Washington in the United States. As written, I had the 18th birthday bash, got a paper cut, Jasper flipped his lid, and Edward went all weepy about how we could never be together because he's a monster who would destroy my soul blah blah blah…you get the picture?

The Cullen's left Forks and me in a less than fragile state. Seriously, you want to talk about angsting, just go back and see me during those first weeks afterward. I didn't sleep, ate barely anything (made my figure go from a healthy, willowy to near anorexic), ran up my cell phone bill trying to call any Cullen (Dad got a bit more pissed than sympathetic at that one), and cried practically all the time.

This is where our hero Jacob comes in. Yep, that boy…man?…wolf?...werewolf-man-boy started showing up and helped me come to terms with the fact that if I continued to judge my entire existence on one guy (who was completely absent don't forget), I'd end up a starved, pathetic wreak for the rest of my life.

At first, I didn't really believe Jacob, but I did start eating food again so there was some progress. Still, as days followed I dreamed about Edward. Tried to call Edward some more, and cried myself to sleep almost every night. My life was blessed in that I had a best friend (wolf-boy Jacob) and a dad who held me and saw me through every bad part.

Time was starting to heal the wound.

In the winter after my 18th birthday is when things took a twist from the known story.

Apparently, the Volturi (we'll see more of them later) found out about my taboo knowledge about the undead. Soon enough my name got scribbled in on their hit list. Lucky for me (not!), Marcus (vampire leader who grimaces when he sees anyone and talks just slow enough for you to get annoyed and detached from the conversation), along with minion #1, Jane, and minion #2, Alec, were already in the United States doing something undead so decided to take a little detour and bump me off before they headed back home.

Never got a clear story on what happened next. The Volturi did most of this part from behind trees and bushes, so I didn't even realize what was going on until much later. Apparently, Jane tried to use her ability to render me unconscious with pain so Marcus or one of the witch twins (another endearment I use for Jane and Alec) could drain me dry, and that's when they realized vampire mental abilities had no affect on me.

Then they left me alone and I lived happily ever after…Ha! Gotchya!

Real story goes that Marcus let Aro (vampire leader who smiles _too_ much, power hungry to the degree of almost-insane, and is curious about everything under the sun) know about my ability to ignore Jane. Aro gave Marcus the go-ahead to change me. Had they only changed me, I still wouldn't be the person I am today…I don't think.

It was a Sunday, if I remember right, and I just got done having dinner with Jacob's family. Parking my truck (sigh, miss that old thing), I just got out of it when Charlie (dad) ran out of the house. His eyes were red and kind of puffy. My dad never cried, so I knew whatever was wrong was _really_ wrong.

"Bella," he gasped, his hand shaking as it held the phone, "It's your mom and Phil…The-They were found murdered in their apartment earlier today. I…"

All this was so long ago that I don't remember exactly what I felt or what happened in the moments following. Doctors say our brains block out bad memories as time passes, so maybe it's my brain keeping the pain of that news away.

I do know that a little while later I was in my room, lying on my bed when it hit me. Vampires! For some reason, I became convinced that my mother and stepfather were killed by vampires. Grabbing my cell, I dialed Edward's cell number. He never answered my calls anymore, so it didn't really surprise me when it went to voice mail.

"You've reached cell phone number 888-555-"

Idiot didn't even have the decency to put in his own voicemail other than the already existing company one. Right after this, a terrible idea hit me.

They went after my mom. How long until they went after Charlie?

Rushing out of my bedroom, I skipping almost all the stairs to the main floor as I shouted, "Dad! We need to get out of here now! Call Jacob or Billy. We'll stay with them. Dad!"

When I got to our dining room, I slipped and fell on my butt. It took a minute to realize the floor was slick because it was covered in my dad's blood.

This I do remember perfectly. Charlie was laid out on the floor, beside the kitchen table. Not a chair out of place or any sigh of struggle…other than the body. His eyes, chocolate brown - my eye color – were staring at the wall behind me in a blank way. His mouth seemed to be open, but it was hard to tell since the right side was ripped open all the way to his neck, from where all the blood was gushing out.

For an awful moment, I thought he might be alive, so I started to crawl towards him. I can still feel my hands touching the warm blood on the floor.

"Daddy," I whispered, trying really hard not to cry or throw up all over him. I didn't ever get the chance to touch his forehead (where it wasn't torn to shreds) or brush his curly brown hair – also like mine – before a cold, apathetic voice interrupted.

"Your father is dead, child."

I looked up and saw a towering figure standing in the kitchen doorway. He looked around Charlie's age, dressed in black robes, long dark hair flowed beyond his shoulders, and his face reminded me of a bloodhound. What I really noticed though was the pale skin and crimson eyes.

Vampire. No mistaking it.

Perhaps it was my year before with the Cullen's, running away from Victoria and James (two vampires that wanted me dead for various reasons that are no longer important) that developed my instincts to run without pause. Dad would have been proud at how fast I jumped up and dashed to the bathroom.

Slamming the door shut and locking it (yeah genius, that'll keep them out for a full five seconds), I took my cell phone out of my side pocket. My fingers hit the 3 button to speed dial Edward and my brain was going, 'Call Edward! He'll answer. He'll know what to do. The Cullen's will come and save you. Why are my fingers covered in blood?'

With the phone to my ear, I looked at my hands. Suddenly coming to terms with the fact that they were covered in blood, covered with Charlie's blood, covered with the blood from my Dad's corpse.

This is when I started to cry.

Losing any ability to stand on my own feet, I crumbled to the ground and clutched at the rug carpet we kept right outside the bathtub so no one would get water on the tile floor.

"You've reached cell phone number 888-555-1234. The subscriber isn't here to answer at the moment-"

I started crying harder. After that beep, I think I screamed/sobbed something along the lines of, "Edward! Pick up your damn phone! Vampires! Charlie – Oh God! Charlie – there was blood! Help me! Edward!"

Don't know why they waited this long, but eventually, during my very loud breakdown where I went on crying for help after the phone automatically ended the message, Marcus and his minions broke down the door. I lost the cell phone as they dragged my screaming self out of the house and into a black, nondescript car.

Ever since I fell in love with Edward Cullen and learned the truth behind his amber eyes and pale nature, I dreamed of the day I would turn into a vampire, and we'd share our eternities together. In my dream, I saw him taking me to our valley. It would be beautiful in the summer. Grass and flowers all over as he'd lay me down. Holding my hand in comfort, his amber eyes full of love and promise. I'd get a little apprehensive just before, but Edward always knew what to say to calm me and make me feel loved. Then, in a loving embrace, he'd turn me out of love and respect towards my wishes.

Instead, the universe said, "To hell with it. We'll have her be changed in a car on the way to the airport."

Yes, folks. My grand entrance into the world of the immortal ones was in the backseat of that black car. My sire, Marcus, probably would have waited until we were at least in the private jet on the way to Italy, but I was already screaming at the top of my lungs that he didn't think it would be any different once the venom hit me.

By the time we got to the sacred halls of the Volturi in Volterra, Italy, I was pretty much done with the transformation and a newly made vampire.

This is where my story really began.


	2. Vamps Vamps They give me cramps

_Disclaimer: Twilight stuff owned by Stephanie Meyer. Lord of the Rings run by J.R.R. Tolkien. Don't sue._

Chapter 1: And so I had an afterlife…

_Approximately 500 years after my 18__th__ human birthday_

There is nothing I love more than a good plan, and this right here is a good plan. Where am I, you may ask. I am positioned in the air ducks right above where the members of the Bargra…no…Bargratoni…no…Bagrateenee – Never mind! They're this Russian vampire coven that was giving the Volturi some trouble, so I'm currently in their heating and cooling system to execute a perfect sneak attack plan.

And yes, that's right. I did say I was doing this for the Volturi. Before you give a hissy fit about how they killed my parents and ruined my life, allow me to explain. In simple terms, I work for them because of a lack of other things to do and I sorta, kind of have to…but only from time to time.

Not to mention, they pay _really _well, and I have my own guidelines that they must follow if they want my help. Just know that I'm still not their number one fan, and it was a choice of either mopping around Volterra for the rest of eternity or playing their game a little bit so I could have the freedom I do today.

More later, right now I have to go and do what I do best.

After all is said and done, I looked around at my handy work. Every vamp in the room was dead with various parts of each scattered around like a spilt jigsaw puzzle. Pushing the button on my earpiece, I said into it, "Squad 2, this is V1. Everyone in HQ of enemy is dead. How is our perimeter holding up?"

"Just fine, V1," Yates, Squad 2's commander, replied, "Some vamps got out, but W1 was able to get to them before we could."

I smiled at what Jacob possibly did to those unlucky vampires.

"Ma'am," Yates said, as I started unclipping small cubes of C-4 from my belt and placing them in strategic areas, "We have some live humans over in one of the bunkers. What are your orders?"

"If they haven't been bitten, pump them full of anticholinergic to induce memory loss and have a transport take them to the nearest hospital."

"Affirmative. We have a few here that have bitten and they're starting to turn. Orders?"

I sighed and paused during my walk out of the room. I knew what this Russian coven was up to the moment Aro called me with the mission request. Building another vampire army. Renegade covens did it about every twenty or so years. Kidnap unsuspecting humans and turn them into fresh vamps to control and try to take over the vampire underworld. It was an old story and I was getting tired of hearing it. Not for myself. For those poor souls whose lives got stolen in one swift bite.

"Ma'am. What are your Orders?" Yates asked again.

Straightening up, now was not the time to complain (complain later, Bella, in your stupid private jet), I ordered back, "Smell them. If they haven't tasted human blood, have someone call the Denali clan and let them know we have some newcomers. Then prepare a transport. For those that have tasted, you know my orders, Yates."

"Yes, ma'am. Squad 2 out."

Yates knew my standing orders about new vampires and vampire threats that fed on human blood. Kill them. Kill them all. Aro and the rest of the Volturi weren't too pleased with this rule but tough. If they didn't want to get their lazy butts over to Russia, then they would have to oblige me a little.

Once outside, into the late evening of a Russian winter, the once quiet hideout came alive as about two dozen soldiers ran around getting humans and veggie vamps ready for transport while other were busy packing up.

"Ma'am!" one soldier, think his name was Reggie something, super-zoomed in front of me and saluted, "Area is secure. Squad 1 has set the various packages (he means bombs) in the designated points."

"Alright. Wait until all transport is 40 kilometers away from here then you have the order to blow this place to kingdom come, solider."

He smiled a bit at the mention of blowing something up. Eye roll. Vampire or human, men love to see something blown up.

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted again and super-zoomed off to wherever.

Heading over to my own transport, the newest model of an electronic black Hummer, I spotted a certain half-naked werewolf buttoning up his pair of grey pants.

"Hey," I said as I got closer, "Heard you single-handedly took out a few fleeing vamps?"

My best friend since, well the last five centuries, shrugged his big, tan shoulders. "No big," Jacob said as if I was complementing his job of vacuuming the carpet.

Gazing past me at my team of Volturi issued vegetarian vampires (another stipulation of mine: will only work on missions with veggie vamps that are in no risk of losing their cool around blood), he frowned and said, "You never explained the need for the cavalry. You and I could have taken on the Bagrationi clan by ourselves."

_Bagrationi_, that was their name!

Shrugging and casting a glance at the other vampires, more than one glaring over at Jacob and muttering about "damn mutt" (good to know your super vampire hearing works, buddy, now piss off!), I said, "I know. Look at the bright side. We get to bail out of clean-up duty."

Jacob huffed, "I kinda enjoy blowing the building up afterward."

That got me laughing. We stepped into my Hummer (Jacob in the driver's seat, since my driving is apparently a death wish…this coming from an immortal) and started on our way to the airport where my private jet would take us back to my property in Iceland.

During the drive, I'll digress a little on Jacob Black. My best friend. The nearest and dearest thing I have to a brother. My soul mate.

Rewind about five hundred years ago. As you know, I was changed by Marcus and went to live with the Volturi (a nightmare come true). Jacob, needless to say, was pissed (with a capital P which rhymes with E which stands for…never mind). He got all huffy and puffy and wanting to blow the whole of Volterra down to get revenge. Thankfully, I already put up my own resistance by continually running away (on one attempt I actually leaped from my window and through the tent of a gift shop, landed in a pile of stuffed Marcus heads made to commemorate St. Marcus day…scared the daylights out of the poor shopkeeper).

You want me to drink human blood don't except me to stick around for dinner.

Anyway, during one of my escapes, I finally made it to the city limits where Jacob was waiting and – drum roll please – team Cullen just arrived. Tensions really rose to boiling when the Volturi showed up. Jacob was in wolf form, trying to bite and claw at the them but being held back by Jasper, who looked like he'd rather let Jacob go. Caius (third and final Volturi vamp leader, young looking, pretty as an angel, and holds the heart of a merciless demon who eats babies as appetizers) really hates werewolves and wants to kill them all, was staring down Jacob and kept looking at Marcus or Aro for the go-ahead to attack. Marcus was shouting at whoever would listen that he was my "rightful sire" so I had to do what he said and "needed to stop blubbering about not wanting to feed on humans."

Yeah, out of the three of them, a real a-hole bit me. Although, I'd still prefer Marcus over Caius the Creepy.

I, on the other hand, was being helpful by crying (more like dry-heaving, we vampires don't get to have tears) as far from the Volturi as possible. Esme and Alice were holding me and stroking my hair. Rosalie was between helping Jasper hold Jacob back and helping Emmet hold Edward back.

Yeah, better late than never apparently. My dear Edward decided a week after my attack would be a good time to show up and save the day. During the whole non-fight of Esme cooing and Jacob growling, Edward just kept trying to get to Marcus while repeatedly sending sympathetic looks my way. Way to make a newly born vampire girl feel better about her situation, sweetie.

Carlisle, bless his non-beating heart, was yelling over everyone, trying to get the Volturi to compromise and find a solution that didn't mean fighting. Aro was arguing back about this law and that law and how it would be a disgrace for a direct member of the Volturi to become a vegetarian. Everyone else belonging to the Volturi, meaning the twins and other super powerful vamps with red eyes and a taste for human blood, were like Caius and waiting for the signal to commence the big fight scene.

You will never guess who brought order to chaos. That's right, the Culligan man…actually no, it was Sulpicia. As in Sulpicia, Aro's wife.

Out of nowhere, in stepped a hooded figure that took off the hood and revealed to be a beautiful, fair-haired figure with almost black eyes. I didn't have a freakin clue who this chick was so kept on dry-heaving in Esme's arms, but Aro and everyone else was visibly shocked at her arrival.

From there, to make a long story short, Sulpicia became the voice of reason. She told Caius to go back to the palace, this calmed Jacob down a smig, and said to Aro and Marcus that it would be unethical for them to force me to drink human blood when I clearly wanted the veggie way of life.

Soon enough we all reached a compromise. I could go live with the Cullen's but had to accept that Marcus was my sire and the Volturi was as much my coven as the Olympic coven (meaning the Cullen family). This meant I had to check in and return to Volterra when asked.

Less depressed than before (still pretty depressed though), I began to prepare to head back to the States when Sulpicia took me aside.

"Child," she said kindly, almost in the way Esme speaks to me but with more of a schoolteacher feel, "Take advantage of your endless time. Learn and grown. Once you become powerful and vital enough to them, they will grant the freedom you will seek."

I had no idea what she meant, so just gave a wavering thanks and left with the Cullen's.

Back to Jacob's part in this. Seeing as how I was an immortal now and he only got to be slowly aging, Jacob decided he would spent the next century only in wolf form. Thereby adding up the immortal points (system works that the longer a werewolf goes as a wolf, the longer he/she gets to live), so he wouldn't go and die of a bad heart or broken hipbone or something. I begged him not to, to return to his pack in Forks, but Jacob has never been one to abandon those he loves.

This was a sacrifice I still can't find a way to repay.

So a century went by, I spent most of it living in Alaska with Carlisle, Esme, Alice, and Jasper. Edward became the king of brooding land, which irritated me so much that he went off to parts unknown (sorry, but I could have used a little support…not the constant stares of nostalgia and guilt). Emmet and Rosalie followed per Carlisle's request to keep an eye on him. This whole abandonment (I kind of drove Edward away, I admit), witnessing my father's violent death, and being transformed into a vampire against my will didn't agree with me. Thus began my campaign to rule as queen of brooding land.

Eventually, though, I decided enough was enough. I refused to be the girl I once was who expected others to provide happiness for her. Remembering what Sulpicia said by taking advantage of my time, I started to learn. With the help of Carlisle and Esme, along with the revolution of online classes, I got a high school degree along with three doctorates (World Literature, Biology, and Foreign Languages).

It was with Alice and Jasper, especially Jasper, that I found relief from my internal torture. They taught me how to fight, scout, and track. At first, it was just an outlet, but then it became a way of mastering my body, my powers, my cravings, and my future. Jasper said he'd never had a more devoted student. Soon, while I did love gaining a better education and spending time with the Cullen's, working to become a better fighter found its way to the top of my list.

Before I knew it, the century went by and Jacob returned with no difference outside but all the difference inside. Like me, he harnessed his skills over time to be an able fighter and tracker. We both had changed/grown/morphed into harder people. To the disappointment of my family, especially Esme and Alice, I decided to leave Alaska and go searched for new teachers of combat. Jacob agreed to come along.

Our feelings toward one another? Right after my transformation, we might have harbored the thought of romance (slightly more on Jacob's part than mine), and even as time went on I thought of starting a life with Jacob. Someone I could depend on no matter what. It changed, though, when we saw each other again. I expected the same boy I knew back in Forks, cheerful and innocent, and he probably expected to find the same clumsy, compassionate Bella waiting.

To be frank, I was slightly surprised when he offered to travel with me.

Our time together was a sealed deal after we arrived in Asia. In China, I was beginning my studies within the underground Shaolin Monastery when word arrived that the Volturi were under attack and needed aid.

I didn't really jump at the chance to help them (me? feel sorry? not really). In fact, I would have stayed in Song Shan (city where monastery exists) had not Jacob made this statement.

"Don't care what happens to those blood suckers, but I feel bad for the people."

People. There were people, real human people who lived in Volterra. Recalling Aro saying that some people even purposefully moved to Volterra to avoid vamp attacks (the Volturi refuse to kill close to home), I felt angry at whoever was endangering perfectly innocent humans.

"I'm coming with you," was what Jacob said next, seeing the look in my eyes. Not finding time to argue on how the Volturi, mainly Caius, would probably kill him before he could even help, we hightailed it to the airport (don't worry, we promised the monks we'd return and resume the lessons…they agreed and wished us a good journey, also mentioned to bring back some biscotti, go figure).

You should have seen our first battle in Volterra together. It was like poetry. From then on we knew our destiny was to be together, not as lovers but as a pair of buddies fighting evil. Vamp evil, of course. Another rule I live by: kill only vamps, or the rare evil werewolf. Never a human.

Yeah, our partnership may be cheesy but come one! Together, Jacob and I took down like twenty vamps on the first try.

The Volturi were even so impressed they let Jacob live and named him the only werewolf who was welcome (note that's an iffy welcome, not a full welcome with open arms type of welcome) in Volterra.

And there you have it. The story of how Jacob and I ended up being the darker, younger looking, longer living version of the dynamic duo. Never call him the Boy Wonder though, he tends to get pissed and starts baring teeth.

* * *

An hour on the road, Jacob was humming along with the mp3 radio, which was now gracing the Hummer's interior with sounds from Guns N' Roses. My time to the airport was occupied with the next chapter of this new author named E.V. Jo Dillon. Her stories had sort of a Jane Austen feel with a kick of the suspenseful.

"_Take me down to the Paradise City where the grass is green and the girls are pretty_ – come on Bells – _OH WON'T YOU PLEASE TAKE ME HOOOMMMEEE_!" my friend's not-so-talented singing blared above the vocals of Axl Rose.

I snorted but didn't look up from my page. Classic rock was never my thing and Jacob knew it. Didn't matter, he was convinced if he played enough of those roaring electric guitars and ten minute long drum solos, I'd turn into a lover of the genre.

Unlikely.

I swear, had I not possessed super vamp hearing, I probably never would have heard the Hummer telling me that I had a call. Jacob ceased banging along on the steering wheel and said "volume mute" to the vehicle's voice activated system.

"Identify caller," I told Hummer.

"Caller is the Volturi," Hummer answered back in a sexy woman voice that punctuated every syllable (Jacob's choice).

Rolling my eyes at how, after all these years, those blood suckers still needed a private powwow with me after every mission.

"We could always ignore it," Jacob said to me, eyebrows jumping up and down and a evil smile slid on that said the trouble-making boy I knew from childhood was still alive and well.

"Yeah," I sighed, "But then they'd probably send somebody to my house. Chances are it'd be Jane, we'd get into it, and I'd have to build another place."

"Call answer," I then said to Hummer.

"Hello?" Tessa, the Volturi's newest human receptionist (poor girl, she'll be gone before asking about the pension plan), asked with uncertainty, "Hello? Is this Ms. Isabella Swann?"

"Bella Swann," I corrected.

"So sorry, Ms. Swann. Won't happen again," Tessa quickly corrected herself, "Lord Aro (I held back a snort at the 'Lord' bit) asked me to call you and let you know the Volturi request your presence as soon as possible."

Jacob quietly swore under his breath.

"Why?" I asked and rubbed the area between my eyes. Not really in the mood to see my dear old sire and his coven of sadistic psychopaths today. They're fine from over the phone and the occasional Christmas card, but never in large doses.

"I don't know, Ms. Swann," and then Tessa's voice got dramatically quiet, "It's all very hush, hush. Whatever's going on has got Lady Sulpicia and Lady Athenodora (Caius's tolerable wife) in a fit. Somebody arrived last night. That's all I know. Oh, and that other coven your with – the Olympic one – just arrived."

That part about Sulpicia freaking out got my attention, but hearing that whatever got Aro to call in a super secret meeting included the Cullen clan turned on all the blaring horns and neon signs that whatever was going on was serious with a capital S.

"Tell Aro I'll be there by morning," I told Tessa.

"Certainly, Ms. Swann."

With the call ended, I turned to Jacob who appeared to be in a medium place between curious and angry. No secret why he hated Aro and the Volturi (the Cullen's he actually grew to like, well, most of them…okay, mainly Carlisle, Esme, and Alice – the other's tended to not be around when he visited), and the curiosity must have come from my same wondering.

Ever since my forced changed, Carlisle's disgust with their mercilessness led to cutting almost all ties with the Volturi. Other than my belonging somewhat to both covens, they really had no more contact. Because of this animosity, I made another stipulation: Unless the Cullen's create an actual threat (which they never will), the Volturi are to leave them alone.

All this tension, hence why Jacob and I were scratching our heads at the Cullen's arrival in Volterra.

"What's the plan?" Jacob asked after a bit more silence.

Plan? Oh, yeah a plan. I love plans. Plans I can work with. Plans I can do. Biting my lip in thought, I finally replied, "Like I told them, I'll go to Volterra and see what's up."

"And I should…"

"You should catch a plane to Rome and stick around in case I need you. Unless, you want to accompany me into vamp-central."

Grimacing (I'll take that as a no), my brother shook his head. "Naa, you go deal with the leeches. I'll sit in a café, eat gelato, and hit on Italian chicks," he smiled and did that eyebrow thing again, "Besides, I need some wolf time. I can feel my cells starting to age."

"As long as it's helpful," I mumbled and pulled out my PDA to call the pilot and inform him of our changing destination.

To Volterra, Italy. Home sweet _freakin_ home.

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_AN: And that's another chapter, folks! Want chapter three? Well I'm holding it hostage until I finish the fourth chapter and get (at least) four more reviews. So please, pretty pretty please review._


	3. Family Bonding Time hold the blood

_Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Middle Earth. Meyer owns everything else. Learn to accept it and move on._

_Author's warning: I'm changing a bit of the ancient history of Middle Earth to appease my needs for this chapter. Apologizes, Tolkien._

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Chapter 2: The history of those damned vamps

Need a vampire? Searching for an endless supply of robes? Well come on down to Volterra! We got all your vampiric needs, and the robes come in red _and _black. We'll even throw in a St. Aro bobble head. All for the price of one blood-filled human.

Really though, on the outside, Volterra isn't so bad. The residents, the breathing residents, are quite nice and the architecture is amazing. Not that I drink lattes, but I hear those are really good here too.

It's sad that the very sight of this magnificent, ancient city makes me nauseous. Maybe someday the Volturi will move somewhere else. Somewhere worthy of their presence. Such as a smelly bog invested with chiggers and Agent Orange.

Unlikely.

Parking my rental Chevy Augusta HD 3.5 model pickup truck (I have a thing for trucks) in the underground parking garage, I threw the keys to the awaiting valet and super sped over to the elevator. Pushing the button (there's no real security to stop anyone from getting to the Volturi…if you're not welcome, you're dead) and basking in the moments I had left of solidarity, I listened to the elevator music (Schubert, not a bad choice by any means) and checked my PDA.

One text from Jacob.

**~Wolfman~ in Rome…let me knw if u need me. here's somtin to wish u luck.**

Followed by a very tasteful photo of a young woman's butt in tight running shorts, probably taken as she passed him during her morning jog. Thanks a million, Jake 'ol buddy 'ol pal.

Shaking my head at testosterone and the effects it has on the brain, I texted back.

**~Vamp_Heart_Trucks~ ur disgusting! i'll txt u by 2night if all goes good.**

Bing! Doors opened to the soft light of the parlor. Built centuries before I was turned, the home of the Volturi was a string of connected manors built mostly of marble. Statues and murals carved into the walls, art and pieces of furniture from so far back in history littered the place enough to make the Smithsonian cry, and tours of naïve humans (walking meals for the blood suckers) arrived daily to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at it all.

The top three (Aro, Marcus, and Caius) knew how I felt about their diet, so I didn't expect to see any tours coming through while in Volterra.

"Welcome back, Bella."

Jane, the short stack of horrors that disguised herself as a innocent, brown haired twelve year old, may have greeted me with "Welcome back, Bella," but it sounded more like "Go f*&#k yourself."

"Always a pleasure, Jane," I replied with the same zeal.

Per usual, Jane was adorned in a long black dress, humongous broach, and black (you guessed it!) robe to match. The whole outfit really emphasized on her pale face and murderous red eyes. I, on the other hand, felt that robes and velvet weren't my wardrobe calling. In a simple black wrap-around top and gray yoga pants like today, I tended to wear flexible clothing just in case a battle of some sort broke out nearby.

Not to mention, I enjoyed wearing pajama clothes all day, everyday. Only my pair of black, Tai Chi slippers stood out as impractical. Impractical they may have been, but I would never part with these babies. They're sturdy enough for super-speeding and fighting and as comfortable to wear as shoes made out of clouds from heaven.

Not that I know what clouds from heaven feel like…you get the point though.

Turning away from me, Jane started walking across the parlor. Apparently, I was meant to follow.

"It took you long enough to arrive," she mused, "Had some trouble with the Russians?"

Screw you, shrimpy!

"Nope."

"Aro was concerned," she said with no effort to hide the bitterness.

Sorry (not!), honey, that your perfect dark daddy doesn't French kiss the ground you walk on like the other nimrods that hang around here.

Why did Jane tend to hate me with every fiber of her being? You see, some vamps have special powers, and Jane's is to create the illusion of intense pain. Because she used this power at Aro and the other two's request, Jane was feared and revered as a major pintsized BA. And let me tell ya, the little witch basks in the glow of it all.

Then I came along. I had a power too. Like I mentioned before, as a human, I wasn't affected by Jane's illusions or any other vampire's mental power. Once the vampirism kicked in, that human ability got turned up a few notches into a mental shield. A mental shield in which those of my choosing and myself become immune to other mental powers.

Basically Jane loathed me for all eternity, because her ability was about as threatening around here as a turkey sandwich whenever I showed up. Not to mention, in recent decades, Aro entrusted me with a few errands that I'm pretty positive Jane wasn't privy too.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," I replied and that was the whole of our conversation as we walked through the hallways towards the (guess you could call it) throne room. Unlike what was expected (the three seated on their cushy chairs while an entourage hung around playing 'who can be the biggest butt kisser to our supreme ones'), the big stone and columns room was empty. Not pausing in her stride, Jane continued past the thrones and into the back rooms of the Volturi, their private chambers.

Dun. Dun. Duunnnn!

Confusion tapped on my brain, but I didn't ask Jane anything. Doubted she'd tell me anyway and letting on that I possessed not a flying flip what was going on would only delight the little demon.

Ten times out of ten, when one of the three asked me to show up in Volterra that meant going to the throne room, chitchatting on the basics ("how's eternity going?" "killed any vampire threats lately?" "are you still hanging out with that flea invested mutt?"), and hightailing it out of there before dinner time. Only right after my change, five hundred years ago, did I visit the Volturi's private chambers. Marcus (a-hole) tried to set me up in rooms near his to keep an eye on me. I remembered they were super nice and had bars on the windows (I think he put me in them after my leaping-out-of-a-window escapade).

As Jane led me into their private parlor, memories of this area started to reform. Unlike the entrance parlor, this one was significantly smaller so the carpet and furniture were closer together to give a better feel of intimacy and that it was actually lived-in. Above the roaring fireplace were three portraits of (take a wild guess) the undead world's three fearless (insane and bloodthirsty) leaders. I didn't turn around to check, but memory told me that on the two sides of the doors we just entered were portraits of Sulpicia and Athenodora. Marcus' dead wife (also Aro's sister), Didyme, didn't have a portrait anywhere in the Volturi's home that I knew of, so I had no idea what she looked like. My sire also never felt inclined to talk about her and I never pushed the subject.

That'd be one heck of an awkward conversation I wished to avoid.

Returning to the private chambers. Beyond the parlor were three hallways. I knew one led to Marcus' private rooms so logic said the other two led to Aro and Caius and their significant others' apartments.

Jane started down one of the hallways that didn't belong to Marcus. Stopping in front of a large oak door with a brass handle about twenty times the size of her tiny hand, the vamp pulled open the door with ease and stepped aside to allow me to enter first.

I just stared back at her stupidly. This act of propriety caught me totally off guard.

"Go ahead," Jane gestured and smiled at me viciously.

Wiping the stupid from my face, I corked an eyebrow (learned that from Jacob) and went into the room to meet whatever fate awaited me. At this point, I was starting to wish Jacob wasn't in Rome scoping out the babes.

Inside held….lots and lots of books. Almost smiling at my misled apprehension, it became clear we were in Aro's private library. I knew it was Aro's, because he was seated behind a desk looking all in-chargey. Marcus stood in the corner glaring around like the anti-social twit he was, and Caius sat with Anthenodora on a loveseat near the desk. Holding hands and with matched faces of "frankly, we don't give a damn." Those two were made for one another.

"Bella," Aro greeted me with an honest and full smile, "Welcome back, my dear."

"Bella! We've missed you!"

Lovely and lively as her voice, Alice came barreling over and snatched me up in a hug before I could give a "hey" back. My lifelong friend was still the pixie on a nonstop Redbull-high. Her short black hair, sticking out in all places, inspired me, at some point, to cut my own hair. Not as short or choppy as hers instead to shoulder-length with layers.

"Hey, Alice," I hugged back. Glancing above where Alice fussed herself to me (her 4'10 in height didn't block the view from my 5'4), I sent a little smile over to the rest of the Cullen clan. Detaching, Alice grabbed onto my hand and pulled me over to them.

"Come sit with me," she ordered as if we were in kindergarten and I was the new kid that needed a friend.

Parking me on a couch between Rosalie and her, Alice finally freed me as she exchanged the grasp to Jasper's awaiting hand; he stood to our left, right beside Alice's seat. I looked over to Rosalie, who smiled back but didn't say anything. Her welcome was genuine though.

Over the years, Rosalie and I connected in a solid friendship. Unlike Alice, whose cheerful, loud nature was my polar opposite so our friendship is based on the whole 'opposites attract' deal, Rosalie shared a harsh realism with me that sprouted from our violent pasts, and eventually we both realized how much fun it was to be serious and criticizing as a pair. True, she's not as violent as me or as cuddly as Alice, but the blond ice queen had a fine way of finding the happy medium between those two extremes.

"'Sup Tomb Raider?" Emmet, Rosalie's bear of a husband, beamed as me and raised a fist to bump (old school but a favorite of his).

"Same old, same old," I replied as my fist connected with his (holding back an eye roll at the corniness of my friend). None of the Cullen's rejected me for the lifestyle I chose after leaving Alaska, yet Emmet seemed to be my _numero uno_ fan. He thought the whole kicking vamps butts and taking names was awesome and somewhat hilarious, hence the sexist, gamer nickname.

"Jane, would you please close the door?" Aro asked his favored pupil.

Once we were all confined and cozy, Aro started welcoming and thanking everyone for being here. I tuned this part out and instead took mental notes attendance.

On the Volturi end of the deal, of course the top three, Anthenodora I mentioned already, Jane had positioned herself beside Alec, Renata (pretty nice for a red eyes who got the short end of the stick by becoming Aro's personal bodyguard due to her gift of a protective shield) was standing almost exactly behind Aro's chair, Demetri (polite, gifted tracker) kept to his own space, and Felix (eww!) was nearby Demetri.

Felix was a pretty decent fighter, who I could take down on a good day (had I ever felt the need to actually touch him). What I really hated about Felix was his completely unwarranted eternal-crush on me. Whenever I was in Volterra, such as today, he would always find a way to get me alone and try his pervy version of wooing.

Currently, the tall, dark creeper was appearing at attention to Aro but kept sending really subtle grins my way.

Gross! He licked his lips at me.

"Please tell me you're not seeing that pervert," Rosalie whispered into my ear.

"No," I whispered back, "And if he keeps this up, his balls are gonna mysteriously go missing by tomorrow."

Rosalie grinned a little and Emmet started choking with laughter. Carlisle, who stood behind our couch with Esme, hit him on the back and gave the three of us a warning look to be quiet and listen.

Keeping my mouth shut and ignoring Felix, I look around some more and realized a couple of things were off. One, not all the usual Volturi entourage was present. Two, there was some hooded figure sitting in a shadowy portion of the library. At first I thought it was Sulpicia, then I caught sight of her pacing in front of a window somewhat behind where I sat.

Sulpicia? Pacing? This was new. After further examination, I saw that, not only was there pacing, but also the winging of hands and her shoulder twitched every few seconds too.

This ancient one I actually could stand to be around and we bonded over time (of my own free will too!). In all those years, I'd never witnessed Sulpicia actually act nervous. Her mode was always quiet, mysterious, serious and wise. Always kept her cool, even during the worst of revolts and threats, Sulpicia maintained an air of calm and composure.

Right now the woman…vampire-lady…whatever - was practically tweaking with anxiety.

"…an, shall I call it, ordeal has arisen which we find need to deal with," Aro must have moved past the formalities. I pulled my stare away from Sulpicia's episode and back her mate. "What we are here to discuss is of the most delicate nature and must be treated as such," he said to the room, "Which is why we've only invited those we considered the most trustworthy of our coven and association to be included on this little conference…you all."

Jane, Felix, and the rest of the Volturi guard gave off variations of smugness. The Cullen's, Alice and Rosalie at least, looked completely confused. I started wishing I'd been more rebellious towards Aro and Marcus in the past.

"What we are dealing with," Aro leaned forward to enhance the moment (drama queen), "is the history of our very species. Of the vampire."

Then he paused. Drama queen, I told you.

I was about to tune him out again and take out my PDA to text Jacob when he added, "My fair mate, Sulpicia, will perhaps better explain."

Still tweaking a little, she pulled on that face of composure she'd mastered in the last several millennia and went over to stand before us beside her mate's desk.

Taking a second to lock eyes with Anthenodora, who gave a tiny nod (when you've been taught to track for so long, you learn to notice the little things), Sulpicia began her tale.

"As such with everyone present, Anthenodora and I were first born of man," Sulpicia paused a moment as well, yet it seemed less for effect and more to think about her next words, "We were not born of this world, though."

Had we needed to our lungs, everyone listening (except Anthenodora and the three) would have stopped breathing.

Before we could bombard her with questions (personally, I wanted to question her recent drug activity), the ancient one raised a hand of silence. "Please," she almost begged us (another mode I'd never seen on Sulpicia), "Please wait until I finish. We were born of a world called, in English or the common tongue, Arda. This world vastly differs from the one we all share, possessing various species far more powerful than the vampire. It was in this world that our kind was created…created in hate and evil."

Another first occurred. Sulpicia actually appeared ashamed of being vampire.

"Go on," Aro pushed as he frowned at her discomfort (how dare she think being a vamp isn't the uber-coolest!).

Gaining perfect composure once more, Sulpicia continued, "Anthenodora and I were born on an island called Almaren. Our families were among the first of the human race. To pay tribute to our creator, we called Eru, many of us became the servants and followers of a race of higher beings called the Valar, who came into the world as stewards for Eru to care for and defend his creations. Anthenodora and I, as young girls, left our families and became attendants under one of the Vala named Nienna."

"She who weeps," Anthenodora barely whispered after this name. My eyes almost grew five sizes as I watched the other Volturi wife stare at her knees in thinly veiled anguish. Whoever Nienna was, she did a full number on these two.

Nodding to her fellow lady vampire, Sulpicia went on, "Nienna was a Queen of the Valar. The one tasked with mourning the dead and pitying the suffering."

And she chose you two to be her followers? Must have been some slim pickings.

"In our time serving Nienna, we saw the pain death and suffering brought. While Nienna sought to teach her followers of the hope and endurance found in loss, all we saw was the pain. This brought fear into our hearts," Sulpicia said, "A fear of death that we could not rid. When the weight of despair became too heavy, Anthenodora and I begged our beloved teacher to spare us of death and suffering. She refused, knowing that both were natural steps in the path of mortality and nothing to be feared. We would not listen."

I had a feeling the next part of this twisted tale was when the you-know-what hit the fan.

"Another Vala, who opposed Eru, used our fears as a way to destroy the human race. Melkor, he was called at first, but later named Morgoth…the Black Foe."

Crap! Was she gonna ask us to help defeat this Morgoth Vala guy? Anyone with a nickname like 'the Black Foe' probably wasn't too shabby on the battlefield.

"Morgoth offered us immortality," she honestly seemed scared just thinking back at the memory of this guy (guy? I don't think the Vala counted as 'guys'…whatever, back to story time with Sulpicia), "He told Anthenodora and I that we must drink the blood of a dead Ainur, the holy race which the Valar belonged too. Ainur were never meant to die, but Morgoth so hated Eru and his fellow Valar that he killed one in secret and brought it before us. We drank, our mortal bodies dying of the blood's lethal nature, and rose up after as the unnatural race of the vampire. After our change…we…"

The intensity was clearly starting to set on Sulpicia. Her body was almost shaking with disgust and desolation.

"We grew hungry and began feeding on others of the human race on Almaren," Athenodora took the reigns finally. Out of the two, she always spoke less (if at all), but we all could see the burden of talking about this was growing larger on Sulpicia with each word.

"They too became vampires but were not like us," Caius' wife explained, "These were mindless beings whose hunger never ceased. They knew only the need for blood and their lust for it dwindled the human race into nothing. Too late we realized Morgoth's deception. Too late before the world we knew was flooded with chaos and despair."

Wow. I almost felt bad for the ladies. These memories seemed to genuinely be painful for them to discuss. Touched me so much I was almost starting to believe them.

"Soon enough," again Sulpicia took over narration, "the Valar and the rest of the Ainur acted as the hand of Eru and inflicted genocide on the feral beasts…it was no less than what we deserved."

She stopped talking then and only heavy silence followed.

Only to be interrupted by yours truly's brain vomit.

"Sooo (pause) why aren't you two dead?"

Sure enough, every eye in the room turned toward me. Some in annoyance, others unreadable. Shrug. Like I care. Just asking what everyone was thinking.

"Because they sought after the empathy of their former mistress."

In a snap, all attention sprang from me to the nameless, cloaked figure in the corner I first believed was Sulpicia. Stepping from the shadows, the light brought in the face of an elder man with a long (really long…like Santa Clause long) beard and deep blue cloak that covered most of his body. At first, he didn't appear at all threatening. In fact, this man looked old enough to drop at any moment.

It was his smell, though, that put him in another category. Power, you see, gives off different scents. A strong person smells differently than a weak person. Species obviously smell differently. Sometimes, I can even tell a person's mood by the way they smell.

After getting good, purposeful whiff of this guy, I knew for sure that #1: he sure as hell wasn't human, #2: he was very Very old (older than the Volturi by like a millennia or ten), and 3#: there was a tidal wave of power radiating off his blue, robed-up self.

Slipping my eyes over at Aro, I almost cracked a grin at the frown of constipation coming from his usually-powerful gaze. Guess I wasn't the only one getting a hint that Mr. Blue wasn't just another geriatric off the street.

"You both, like beaten, sick dogs," Mr. Blue pointed a wrinkled finger of shame at our evening's hostesses, "ran back to the compassion of High Nienna and pleaded with her to go to Eru on your behalf."

This was freakin awesome! Sure, I got along fine with Sulpicia and felt bad for them a little, but it was still like watching the kid you don't really care for get shouted at by the teacher in front of everyone.

"She did go before the All High," he dropped the finger and turned to all of us, "And in consideration for his beloved daughter, Eru granted these damned…abominations mercy."

Oh…well that answers my question. Still doesn't explain why you all called this meeting of the super-freaks club.

"But!" Mr. Blue's voice pounded out so quickly the entire audience (yes, me to) jumped, "Not without punishment. Because of their transgressions, Sulpicia and Anthenodora of Almaren were banished from Arda to this world created by Eru. A world without the great races of Ainur and the Elvenkind."

Hold the phone! Did he just say 'elves'? Seriously, what the heck are you all snuffing up when I'm not here?

"Also, because the race of men was robbed of its rightful place as the first children of Eru," he continued, "They were placed as second beings to the Elvenkind (again with the elves…he was actually serious about this). In this world, though, the race of men is always to rule society and outweigh the number of the vampire. Your kind is condemned to be outcasts until the end of time. Only to exist in the secret places. Finally, the houses of the two who tainted Almaren must answer of the call of the Valar, when the line of evil Morgoth began, again threatens the free peoples of Arda. Middle Earth of Arda is on the brink of great peril, and I, Morinehtar, emissary of the Valar, have traveled between the worlds to call forth that allegiance."

Silence.

House of the two who tainted Almaren? The two meaning Sulpicia and Anthenodora. Who are members of Volturi. A coven I'm a part of…sorta. Does coven also mean house?

Crap! Should have listened to Jacob and let that damn call in the Hummer go to voicemail.

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_AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Since you all know the drill, let me know what you think and I'll get a new chapter up soon._


	4. And now a word from our undead sponsors

_Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings to Tolkien. Twilight to Meyer. Here endith disclaimer.

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_

Chapter 4: Sidebar with Aro…this should be terrifying

Viewing my mate's discomfort granted me a certain amount of pleasure. No, I did not wish Sulpicia pain. My consideration for her, since our union, has grown into devotion one could classify as love.

But ever since the arrival of that…harbinger…my constitution has been more than disagreeable, so it brought me a secret inner-justice that my mate, the reason for _his _presence in my house, should suffer as well.

Also, the twitch of her elbow every few seconds quite amused.

Whilst the blue-clad creature gave his tirade of worthy punishments toward the past choices of my mate and Anthenodora, I stayed silent. On the outside, that is. Inside, the marvelous beast of immortality bellowed at every underhanded way the old crow insulted my sacred species.

Condemned to be outcasts of humans, _indeed_! I see nothing condemning in a reign of strength and power standing firm for more than three thousand years.

Finally, thank the powers, he ran short of hot air and returned to the corner. Once again, my fair lady took the floor and pleaded for the help of the most trusted in our coven and allies. Truly, Sulpicia had not spoken this many words in public for over a hundred years.

She abhorred an audience. Therefore, I was sure half the reason of her violent anxiety related to the speech making I somewhat forced upon her.

My guilt would make itself known once that crow left Volterra.

Peering across the study, I unwittingly caught those intruding, brown eyes boring into me. As if our unwelcome visitor could read my thoughts.

Think you can arouse fear in this ancient, dead heart, old man! You may quake the ground under the feet of this house's mistress, but never its master.

'I do not mean to cause fear, vampire lord,' a voice as deep and certain as a strong wind, his _real _voice I knew, formulated in my mind, 'I mean to seek forth the bounty your bloodline owes to the High Father. Know that if Middle Earth fails to stop this evil, it is only a matter of time before it passes through and is at your doorstep.'

At this, I could no longer hold the ancient gaze of the wizard. Wizard, the name Sulpicia said the men and elves of Arda called his kind. Fitting word for I doubt anybody in my chamber went without feeling the power of his presence once Morinehtar made himself known. Up until that point, I noticed no scent of blood or body emitted from his person.

Magic carried with this creature like smoke laced around fire.

I sensed it the moment he arrived in Volterra last night, putting the fright of hell itself in my mate and Athenodora. My brother's wife remained better with her composure this morning, but last night she screeched and fainted on the spot at first sight of the wizard.

That sight I could not hold a smile back from.

When Caius revived his ailing mate and the chaos was put to rights, Morinehtar began his tale. Several of the names, such as Eru and Morgoth, Marcus, Caius, and I recognized from first hearing the tale of vampire's origins from Sulpicia and Anthenodora.

Apparently, Morgoth had corrupted a creature not unlike Morinehtar who became his lieutenant. This Sauron of Mordor waged war on Middle Earth alongside his master some time after my mate's banishment. After Morgoth's fall, Sauron continued the campaign by creating a weapon of some sort.

Morinehtar did not speak in great detail about the weapon, and Sulpicia knew nothing about it. My curiosity still reached for details about it.

Continuing on, the people of Middle Earth believed Sauron defeated, but his weapon resurfaced again. This weapon, deliciously mysterious, I concurred to be somehow supernaturally jointed with its maker. What the wizard feared, for Middle Earth, was Saron's return due to the weapon's survival.

A meeting of the great powers of Middle Earth was convening in an elven kingdom called Imladris.

We would attend. True, I would rather slit the throat of the wrinkled crow than have him lead us to a world where vampires are considered damned. I am no fool though. Disagreeing to cooperate entirely would spell ill fate for myself and the empire I labored to create.

Of my house that will cross the barrier between the worlds: Sulpicia must attend as well as Anthenodora, therefore Caius is sure to come. My brethren and I dispute rarely, so I do not expect to find his attitude towards this _burden_ to be any different than my own.

Of those I created, Jane was an absolute. My dearest one would voyage through certain death at my whim, and her twin, Alec, never left her without his aid. He too I counted on. The other gifted one I sired, Demetri, would not deny an order either. Renata would also be one of our quarry.

As for Marcus and Felix, their decisions would depend primarily on what Bella choose.

Felix would go with us, no matter her choice, but my brother's creation would sweeten the pot. Since her initiation into our coven, my guard possessed a burning infatuation with the younger vampire. Unluckily for him, Bella never recuperated the feelings. Most recent evidence of this was her very graphic threat explained to Rosalie Hale.

Bella. My brother's creation. Not since the new birth of Jane had my house achieved such an asset. Pity I must share her loyalty with the Olympic coven of vegetarians and that disgusting werewolf.

Would Bella agree to journey with us, I know Sulpicia's heart will bear itself a little comfort. Her addition to this venture was a particular request of my mate.

Even since Bella's second birth, Sulpicia had taken a special liking to her. She trusted the younger vampire more than any other of our guard. Not to the same extent of my mate, but I do trust Bella as well. Throughout the years of her service, Bella rebelled from us a bit, yet she never lied or threw aside any trust we granted her.

Yes, Bella may hate us to a degree, but she never hated us in secret while wearing the mask of a friend.

This rare type of honesty also played into my invitation to Carlisle and his coven…that reason as well as it would sweeten the pot for _Bella _to agree if her beloved vegetarian family went with us. This form of asking and manipulating her to do my will instead of outright ordering brought a combination of annoyance and amusement to me.

She honestly viewed herself equal to the leaders of the Volturi. Foolish child.

* * *

With some final words, invitations to Bella and the Olympic clan again to accompany us, and requesting everyone stay the night since there remained much to plan, Sulpicia ended her piece. I too thanked and dismissed them.

As they filed out, Morinehtar disappeared from his corner without getting up. Impressive yet not unexpected.

I stood and went over to my lady fair.

"My love," I quietly said to Sulpicia as I took her quaking hand into both mine, "Go to lye down. The hours have been very trying on you. This stress worries me."

Spotting her pale, soft knuckles with a kiss, my mate then nodded silently, seemingly relieved that the meeting ended. As she glided out, Anthenodora followed. Then I was left alone with my brethren.

"Aro," Marcus stood before me, the features on his face growing ever more darker, "For years, I've allowed my creation to be the tool of your work. Not this time, though. Bella will not go with you to Imladris. She and I will remain and watch over Volterra during Caius and yours absence."

My apologizes, I forgot to explain before why Bella's presence would entice Marcus to go. Ever since the needed elimination of my foolish belated sister, Didyme, her widower, Marcus, became more and more aggrieved as time passed. Because he managed to remain in the right mind and rarely spoke out against my ruling, I left Marcus to his grief and loneliness.

After he changed Bella, Marcus took noticeably more interest in her than anyone else. When she visited us, he watched her closely and tried to always be in her presence. Her refusing to stay in Volterra always put him in the foulest of moods; shades of behavior I hadn't seen in Marcus since right after Didyme's death. All these hints of abnormality came to climax when Marcus caught Felix pinning Bella to the wall, in attempt to show some "friendly aggression." It took Demetri, Chealsea, and myself to pry Marcus from killing one of our own.

After that incident, Marcus' concern for his creation shadowed into a sort of obsession. This also opened Bella's eyes to the truth. Before her departure, I was told of a new "rule" to follow in further requesting her services.

Marcus was to remain, at the least, twenty feet from her at all times, and, unless absolutely necessary, he was no longer to communicate with Bella directly.

Without voicing it aloud, I found no qualms with this "rule" and was happy to enforce it.

"Marcus," my voice kept its reason and calm, for I saw this getting out of hand very quickly, "As always, whatever Bella decides will be her choice regardless of either of our wishes. I simply invited her along out of respect of her many years of service to the Volturi as well as for the sake of my mate, who feels Bella's presence will benefit us."

"Do not lace your words with trickery at me!" Marcus demanded, his eyes pooling in darkness as they always did when his tempered flared, "You think that by inviting her beloved Cullen's with, then Bella's protective nature will call her to follow along. I see through your schemes, brother!"

"There is no trick in the truth that Bella is a competent fighter in case we find trouble awaiting us," Caius stood up, reasoning to Marcus.

This was unexpected since, out of the three of us, Caius dealt the least with Bella. Logically, he avoided her due to his preexisting wrath for werewolves. Not fond the flea bags myself, but for Bella's loyalty, I tolerated Jacob's presence with more ease than the other two.

Peering at his front and back, where we surrounded him, with displeasing eyes, Marcus then sneered, "How precious she must be to you both as to invoke this rally and praise. I wonder though, my brothers, if either of you would show Bella enough respect to allow her knowledge as to whom her former lover keeps company with these days."

My skin fell colder than its already icy composition. Had he held no more value, Marcus' words would promise a death sentence upon his head.

What he spoke of was Edward's new pet. A human girl he met a few months ago in British Columbia, where the Cullen's 'children' were now enrolled in secondary school. As history often repeated itself, so I've found, the eldest of Carlisle's creations seemed to be trying to rewrite his tragic history with Bella by putting a new human girl in as her understudy.

I knew little of the girl. From the photographs, she seemed pretty, for a human, young of course and of some sort of oriental descent. Her name was Alesha RuBrike, and Edward had yet to reveal his true nature to this poor creature. Of course, my last report on her was almost six months ago. Perhaps when we returned from this mess, I'd send out someone to gather me another one. Make sure Romeo hasn't let out the family secrets to his new Juliet.

This Alesha and her budding romance with Edward the foolish dreamer was information I pointedly kept from Bella within my means. My hand even went as so far as to negotiate with Carlisle to maintain my distance from Edward and his pet as long as none of the Olympic coven revealed the delicate situation to Bella.

Marcus, Caius, and I, up until now, agreed to keep this whole ordeal under wraps to both see how it played out and because of Bella's reaction. Although, unlike Marcus, I was quite sure she maintained no more romantic feelings for her once love, however Bella's acceptance of the news I was still less certain.

Ideally, she renounces all ties to the Olympic coven and joins the Volturi as a rightful and valued member. Realistically though, from our pasts shared, I see Bella choosing the rebel's road and abandoning both covens…or something to that effect.

Which is why Marcus threatening to tell Bella all that must be kept silent, on the eve of our departure to add, put me in a foul mood toward my brother.

"Hear me now, Marcus. The coven we _all _have labored to build as the power it is today may be upon the brink of danger. While I understand your position as Bella's sire, trust in that I will _not _take away any element that helps secure maintaining it," I rose to my feet and held my words as firm as a sharpened blade to his throat, "You are a coveted leader of the Volturi, brother, but creating trouble at such an inopportune as this may sway others to think you more a nuisance. I have no time for nuisances. My word remains as it has always been on this matter. Bella knows nothing about Edward's human and that _will not change _foranyone's sake…not even for you. What is your answer to this?"

He was silent. Like horsed jousters searching into each other's souls for weakness before the flag went up, neither of us wavered in our stares. Without looking, I knew Caius was waiting at Marcus' back. Holding off until a decision was acted upon to see if he would have to go for his brethren's blood if it came to blows.

Personally, I didn't wish to slay Marcus. He was a wise leader and still had many uses, but he wasn't irreplaceable and vital for the life of Volturi.

His blackened eyes cooled in their luster, and I knew my brother's decision. Before words took air, though, a quick knock came from the door followed by it opening before I gave permission.

Obvious lack of respect like that only came from one person in Volterra.

Bella swung open the doors, "Okay, here's the deal," and walked toward my desk with the presumptuous, determined stride she trademarked.

Sparing a quick glance to Marcus, I dared him to reveal our conversation and disobey me. Lowing his head a small notch and backing away from Bella to stand _exactly_ twenty feet from her, I knew, for now, all was well.

"Yes, Bella dear?" her naive posture of stubbornness and strength, as if we were concurred foes granted a negotiation, lightened my mood a bit.

"I will go with you all to the Aadad place-"

"Arda."

Glaring at Marcus for correcting her, _breaking a rule_, she continued her speech to me, "Whatever…so I'll go with you guys to Arda and make sure everyone stays happy and safe. The Cullen's are in too. There will be some rules though, and they're non-negotiable. Rule number one, Jacob comes along."

Sitting back down to make myself comfortable, Bella tended to become long winded when she felt especially self-righteous, I watched Caius open his mouth to argue against this first point. He would end up loosing, of course. This and other 'compromises' on my part throughout the centuries gave Bella the illusion that she remained in power over her life. Her world away from us, with people she trusted who would never lie or hurt her again. This was the world I allowed her to keep as long as she proved useful to my reign.

Ever the foolish little girl, dear Bella.

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_AN: Another chapter to my wonderful readers! Please review. I'm so thankful for all your wonderful reviews. Especially glad you all like this new Bella. Please send more and I'll get the next one up soon._


	5. Traveling doesn't always include peanuts

_Disclaimer: Middle Earth and such is Tolkien's idea. Vamps and Bella came from the mind of Meyer.

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Chapter 4 (the actual chapter 4…because your author forgot to count last chapter): I'm spending my next vacation time with elves

The CEOs of Sandals Resort and Disney World should go to church, bow down, and thank Eru that elves never infiltrated our world.

"_Bella, you just won your first hypothetical Super Bowl! What are you gonna do next!"_

"_Well invasive sports reporter, I'm going to Imladris!"_

For the dull in the head out there, that was a hypothetical (as in made-up) situation to get across my point.

Plainly spoken, this place was freakin awesome! No joke. The scenery, sounds, even the air was so uniquely clean and refreshing, a bottle of it would disappear off shelves faster than whatever new scent the latest chick star had coming out.

I marveled in it all to the point of not really minding that most of the residents (meaning elves) kind of hated us.

Before going into that drama, we need to push the rewind button again.

The morning after I got to Volterra we hauled out…that was a peach of a deal. Jacob showed up the night before; that really improved the level of tenseness and awkwardness (not!).

Oh, one more surprise. Edward apparently was headed off to Middle Earth too. He went with Caius' group (we splint into two teams) along with his family. What made the fun level completely disintegrate was Jacob and I not being assigned to the Cullen's group. Yeah, should have seen that one coming. Aro never really hid the fact that he less than approved of my preferring to hang with the Cullen's over his posse.

Nothing like a good divide and conquer to make my day all the crappier.

Anyways, so Anthenodora, Cauis, the Cullen clan, and some other Volturi guard went off before us. In Middle Earth, they'd end up in some other elven place called a word I don't remember, where a really powerful elf couple lived.

Think the elf lady's name was Gladmore or something. Sounded like a floor cleaner if you asked me.

Aro, Sulpicia, the rest of the Volturi guard, Jacob, and I waited for Mr. Blue to return and ship us off. During the wait, I took advantage of my time and bitched to Aro on how pathetic it was for him to separate me from the Cullen's.

Finally, His Demonicness got fed up and yelled back. "Would you prefer to stay with Marcus in Volterra alone, Bella! Because I may arrange that instead if you do not cease complaining."

Quick note: Only upside so far on the trip was that Marcus got to stay behind. Apparently he lost one too many brownie points with Aro last night in whatever they were arguing about.

Marcus' sudden perkiness at this threat was more than enough to put a vocal cap on the rest of my thoughts. Ignoring Jane's smile of joy at my verbal spanking, I sat with Jacob in silence for the remainder of the hour and imagined ways I could light Aro's womanly long hair on fire.

Darn my constant lack of matches!

Pretty sure I would have lit up the bastard too if Sulpicia wasn't practically in tears over returning to Middle Earth. The woman was a psychology textbook wreak. Scarring her hubby with flames right before we left didn't deem the best of ideas to act upon.

None too soon, Morinehtar the Very Old returned, and we followed him outside the city walls to a large patch of trees. Positioning us to a circle around him, the weirdo with the beard shut his eyes and started mumbling to himself.

Boy did I feel safe and secure.

Jacob and I stood there sharing a feeling of awkwardness since most everyone we kinda hated was in such close proximity. When I was about to ask if this would turn into a group-bonding exercise, Jacob whispered, "Look at the trees, Bells."

It came to my attention that the trees surrounding us were, in fact, moving. Sprouting out at a rate fast enough they appeared to be reaching out, the branches intertwined at the edges. As we stood there bewildered, the trees weaved together to form a circled wall locking us in.

To add in more ambiance, voices from nowhere joined in Mr. Blue's chanting. To the average ear, I'm sure they would have sounded soft and tranquil. Thanks to the handy-dandy sonic hearing you get after vampire venom infects your dieing heart, the deafening chanting of innumerable voices bombarded my ears in a very non-tranquil way.

If I wasn't a believer in supernatural powers before, call me converted. All around us, energy hummed and pounded. Almost like when you're sitting front row at an orchestra's performance and the waves of music vibrate into the floor under you.

Whatever Morinehtar was chanting loaded into the atmosphere around us and pulsed to a powerful beat.

After what seemed like hours, the pulsing receded. It quieted. Then it stopped. No one said a word for several moments…

… we were all too busy second-guessing what the hell just happened.

Morinehtar, acting annoyingly nonchalant, set things back in motion by talking to Aro about this and that. My attention was pointed towards a far more intriguing discovering.

We were still standing in a forest (highly doubt in Italy…air no longer held scents of olives and sea salt) in the middle of the day.

In the middle of the day, a sunny day…my skin was **not** sparkling.

Apparently the UV rays in this world affected vampire skin by only showing our definite lack of pigment…but no sparkles! No diamond impressions! Only smooth, pale as snow epidermis along my arms.

I felt a tiny urge to strip and stand in front of a mirror naked to see what bare-nonsparkly-Bella looked like in the sun.

That'd have to wait though…it would only encourage Felix's sick fantasies.

"Huh," Jacob lightly touched my cheek, as if testing that my body still contained mass, "Guess you blood-suckers don't go disco-ball here."

I grinned back.

"Weird. You remind me of a corpse now."

"Shut up," I shot back and shoved Were-Boy a little off-balance.

Aro commanded us to get a move on. By the time I was paying attention again (I know, not the smartest thing to mentally checkout in an alien world), Mr. Blue had up and disappeared like yesterday.

Already, I felt the pain of his absence.

On a slightly plowed road, we walked through the forest. As I said before, this forest was different than the one outside Volterra. The trees grew taller and the ground flourished with untouched greenery. Fresh and alive scents filled the air. The grass at our feet to the high canopy was all overlaid with mist; this meant we were close to a water source. I reached out my hearing (kind of like twisting the dial of a volume switch) and listened to the rush of water from two good-sized rivers to our left and right.

"What's this placed called again?" Jacob asked the group.

Silence followed. I would have answered but somewhat forgot the name. Sue me! It started with an "Im" (I think) and followed by a bunch of vowels. At least I wasn't like the rest of them, who blatantly ignored Jacob as if he wasn't there.

I sighed, feeling sorry for my friend. "Would one of you bigots just answer him!"

"Imladris, werewolf," Felix sneered back at us. Added a quick wink at me for good measure.

I flipped him the bird.

Despite the blanketed ability to super-speed, we all walked at a normal pace along the trail. I would have complained, but the scenery was a pleasure to enjoy enough to momentarily forget whom I was experiencing it with (not counting Jacob). After what must have been half-an-hour at least, I got my first whiff of elf.

It was practically nondistiguishable from the forest, sharing the same earthy, fresh smell that lingered during the first real days of summer or fall. Differences existed. Their scent moved very fast from one spot to another. Not near the speed of a vampire, closer to an average werewolf. Also, the scent carried from particular spots, meaning a creature, not the environment, gave it off.

They kept their distance and did a heck of a job staying out of sight. Still, we pretty much figured that scouts had been dispatched to keep an eye on us.

"What do you think they look like?" Jake asked.

"Dunno," I said, "Not like Christmas elves, I'll bet. Sulpicia wouldn't be freaking out this much over a bunch of midgets with pointy ears."

He snorted while I imagined our destination actually as the North Pole; complete with child-like elves and St. Nick chugging down hot cocoa and cookies.

My hypothesis held merit since Sulpicia had yet to cease freaking out. Really, someone needed to get this woman a Vicadin or tall glass of hard liquor.

Beside the twitching vamp, her ultra-superego mate, Aro, with his trusty sidekick, Renata, led the group. Followed by Felix standing somewhat behind the side of Renata, then Alec and Jane right in front of us. Jacob and I gladly brought up the rear and took advantage of keeping our distance.

We must have been a sight for the elf scouts. Aro rubbing Sulpicia shoulder to keep her as much together as possible, all the while trying to maintain an air of fearlessness and authority. Renata squinting off into the distance towards the smell of elf; lost concentration on her walking several times (she butted right into Aro twice already…I really worked to hold back a snort….didn't succeed). Jane glaring at me after pebbles mysteriously hit the back of her head. Alec whispering to Jane to keep peace. Felix glaring at _Jacob_ for pebbles mysteriously hit the back of _his_ head. Jacob and I snickering to ourselves for absolutely no important reason (hee hee hee).

Aro commanded that we maintain a 'cautious deposition' in case the elf scouts attacked. Experience said the scouts were too few in number, from what I smelled, and would have attacked already had they intended.

Finally, we came to the end of the forest. The path opened up to a valley (hold that…a _gorgeous_ valley) full of waterfalls and green mountainsides, smelling better than a rose garden hit with Chanel No.5.

"Sign me up for the timeshare program," I said as we all paused to gawk at the spectacular sight our own world only matched four millennia ago (before the human race went and screwed Mother Nature over.)

"Uh huh," Jacob nodded and stared over the open terrain like it was miles of supreme pizza topped with chocolate sundaes (Jake's favorite).

"Welcome to Rivendell, strangers of exile."

Yeah, he surprised us…Yeah, we all leaped back.

Without making a peep of noise, he must have raced at top speed and jumped from a tree to land right in front of us. Regaining our composure (I can just imagine the staff meeting Aro will hold later about keeping our heads around this place…even if the trees smell awesome), the others and I focused on the creature standing before us.

He was defiantly taller than a Christmas elf.

A whole lot sexier too.

As a vampire, I've encountered a good amount of attractiveness. It's somewhat a guarantee that a human made into a vampire means they'll become more physically appealing. Once Marcus introduced me to the underworld of red-eyes and glitter-skin, I changed a bit. Darker hair was the most obvious trait. My eyes eventually turned from blood red to amber like the Cullen's. Also, to my personal delight, my chestal region grew a little more (not to the degree of porn star, but it's a necessity to wear a bra).

According to Jacob and Emmet, I'm now a "ten out of ten" in the outer-shell department. Alice suggested I try out for Victoria's Secret.

Don't ask me to comment on that.

The whole point is that I'm no stranger to beautiful people. This elf-guy though, actually made my ribs restrict. In the words of my brothers, he was a full dose of "ten out of ten."

Pale (not reminding me of a corpse). Golden hair that shimmered. Pale blue or silver eyes (couldn't tell…I tried not to make eye contact for the sake of my non-existent blush). A young face, free of blemish or wrinkle. And tall…already said that…but still, really tall. At least 6'5.

His hair rested past his shoulders. Didn't remind me of a woman, though, since the features of his face and body were smooth and soft to complement it.

"I am Glorfindel," he addressed mostly Aro and Sulpicia, recognizing them as the head honchos, with a harmonious voice fit for a mid-twenty year old man, "Chief of the House of the Golden Flower and ally of Lord Elrond who extends his hand of welcome to you all."

Wow, some greeting.

Followed that wow up with another when I saw Aro honest to goodness bow to Goldy-gorgeous. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Glorfindel," Aro replied as he tilted forward in respect and Sulpicia paired it with a curtsy, "I am Lord Aro, mate of Sulpicia (he just had to put the 'Lord' bit in). I and my companions are of the Volturi vampire coven, which I and my brothers are leaders and founders of."

I felt Jacob shift a little at the part about _all_ of us being a Volturi, but thankfully he wisely kept his mouth shut. First impressions weren't the proper time to get into the complexities of hatred between werewolves and vamps.

Aro twisted his head around and stared at us with an expression that meant to follow his approach, so we all did some version of bow or curtsy. Mine was less than graceful since I never lived in the time of corsets and courting. Jacob merely bent his head a smidge and sent a subtle glare to Aro for counting him part of the 'family'.

From his guarded, stoic look and the way he kept a fair but not-so-obvious distance, it became clear that Glorfindel didn't quite trust us. Can't say I blamed him. We were probably the only species around that bragged a steady diet of AB positive.

"I have been assigned by Lord Elrond to escort you the rest of the way to Rivendell," the elf explained as he took time to silently critique the group before him. In return, I marked the fact that this guy…elf…whatever smelled pretty old (older than Aro but not to the degree of Morinehtar's ancientness), dressed in armor designed differently that any I'd ever seen. It was made in parts of thin metal and other parts leather, which probably created a way for him to move easily. Also, had to mention, I couldn't help but notice Goldy-gorgeous' pointy ears.

At least our pagan-inspired literature got one part about elves correct.

Right before he turned to lead our merry band to Rivendell (really confused about this, thought we were headed to Imladris), Glorfindel got to the end of the line with his mental assessment to Jacob and me. For a split second our eyes met, and I'm sure I saw his brow crease as if he was confused by something.

My guess was that he wondered why my eyes didn't remind him of cherries or gushing wounds like the rest of the vamps did.

As quick as a blink, his brow returned to normal, and he turned and started off. Like good little clueless visitors, we followed Goldy-gorgeous over the river and through the rest of the woods. For remainder of the trip, everyone stayed silent (Jacob and I sadly relented our pebble target practice) as we walked along the mountainside. Most the time, we stayed near one of the rivers, weaving and twisting through nature upon nature. I could sense Jacob trembling with desire to turn wolf and bound through it all in animal elation.

"There it lays before us," Glorfindel stopped halfway down the mountain and announced, "Rivendell, the Last Homely House East of the Sea. Home of Elrond Half-elven, Lord of Rivendell."

He stepped forward for us to see. At least a quarter of a mile ahead of us, built along the mountainside, with waterfalls pouring out from under it, was the most magnificently built civilization I'd ever seen.

I'm not being nice here. The place had freakin waterfalls surrounding it!

Unlike amazing architecture back home, this place was designed into the nature around it. Infusing the rivers, waterfalls (freaking waterfalls!), the mountain, and greenery without dominating it.

The sound of Sulpicia gasping rather violently broke the hypnotizing image of Rivendell. I watched as she started to shake as if weeping at the sight and muttering something about "It's so beautiful…Just like Almaren…Woo is me and my idiotic past choices (i.e. see choice of mate)".

My heart started to pity the poor lady again. Hands down, this whole place (from what little I'd seen of it) was way more awesome than anything back home, and Sulpicia and Athenodora had completely ruined it for themselves.

Once Aro got his blubbering mate under control again (one more outburst like that and I was going to strongly suggest sedation of some sort), we got to walking again.

Rivendell? Sorry, but it quirked me that Felix had said that place would be called Imladris, and we were headed to a completely different elven town. Not that I had much of a say in any of this (nor did I want to), but knowing where the heck we were going was important to me. Preparation is always key according to Master Woo-Ling.

So I decided to take the proactive approach…again.

"Excuse me," I broke the silence and everyone stumbled a bit from the interruption.

Glorfindel glanced back at me.

Aro sent me a big 'keep your mouth shut' face.

Ignored it.

"Yes?" Goldy-gorgeous responded as he returned his eyes ahead and feet moving.

"I was just wondering if we were eventually going to a place called Imladris."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say since Aro's face morphed into comically furious. Even Felix, Alec, and Jane looked back at me with shame and annoyance.

What were these people's deals?

"What is your name, child?" Glorfindel asked in a tone that sounded a tad more pleased than any used before.

"Ummm…Bella Swann."

Turning his head to glance at me again, the hunk of an elf nodded and said, "That is a beautiful name, Bella Swann."

Haven't felt it in a long while, but I think a little part of me just melted inside.

Distracted by the complement from the dreamy golden one, I failed to pay attention (again) and soon enough we had passed an arched doorway into the Last Homely House East of the Sea. From far away, the place was dynamic. Up close, Rivendell was a heavenly plain of beauty and perfection.

Elves should totally take over the resort business. Their decorating and construction skills would make a killing in that market.

"Welcome to Rivendell," Goldy-gorgeous repeated, "Also known, in the Sindarin tongue, as Imladris." He sent me a small smirk (that melting inside thing happened again…should work on stopping that later).

Hiding my face in Jacob's broad shoulder, I overheard Glorfindel say that he was going to go inform his lord of our arrival and that we should stay here.

"He said earlier that Rivendell and Imladris were the same place, didn't he," I mumbled shamefully into my brother's arm.

"Yep," Jacob answered. I groaned at little at my tendency to space out at the most inconvenient times.

That explained why everyone was so pissed. Glorfindel must have gotten a real kick out of the mentally challenged vampire at the end of the line.

Then, with graceful movements I was in no way jealous of, Goldy-gorgeous exited the gateway with speed and agility.

Nope, not at all jealous…especially since he was a dude.

"My children," Aro addressed us once the elf was out of sight, "after Lord Elrond greets us, we shall be shown to our quarters. Later on, Sulpicia and I are to meet with council. During our stay here, Felix, you and Renata are my personal guard. Jane, you and Alec are assigned to Sulpicia in case we are to be separated."

The four loyal minions all nodded their loyal heads.

Maybe Aro forgot about Jake and me. Miracles do happen you know.

"Bella (scratch that miracle part)," Aro stared hard when he got to me (for crying out loud man, it's not like I _meant_ to embarrass myself), "You and the werewolf are to keep surveillance. Become familiar with this area and its residents as soon as possible. Try to remain undetected."

I gave a half-hearted salute while Jacob was busy cleaning off his nails with his teeth.

Before Aro revealed more of his diabolical scheme (fat chance any second of this trip went by without an ulterior motive), Glorfindel pranced back over to us, leading a small, well-clothed band of elves.

It wasn't a chore spotting Lord Elrond. The whole group walked in a swarm centered around him in case any bidding needed doing. Across his forehead, holding his long, dark brown hair away from his face, sat a gold band (imagine a thin crown) giving a bigger clue as to who was boss. Unlike Goldy-gorgeous, this elf's face was aged to about thirty or early forties. Creases ringed around his dark eyes, which said this guy spent a lot of time worrying and thinking. Not too shocking to find in a three-thousand plus year-old leader.

Standing before our group, Lord Elrond began his own private assessment stare, which penetrated into me a million times more uncomfortably than Glorfindel's stare. This was one serious, powerful being, which smelled at least twice the age of Aro.

My own ageless leader appeared to be trying to engage our host in a glowering match. Both longhaired creatures were silent for a time, mentally stripping down each other to the basics on who would win in whatever idiotic, male duel they were silently fighting. For a moment, I caught Glorfindel's eye. He smirked again. I rolled my eyes in reply at how awkward and stupid this all was and went back to focusing on Aro and Elrond.

Finally, Lord Elrond spoke. "I welcome you back to Middle Earth, Sulpicia of Almaren. Your house are valued guests in Rivendell," he said to Sulpicia, pointedly not addressing Aro.

Check the 'stupid' remark before, I kind of liked this guy.

Okay, to fast forward a bit. Aro and Elrond made with the niceties. Afterwards, each of our quarry was introduced (Elrond pulled the same confused stunt when he got to me and Jacob that Goldy-gorgeous did before), and then we were shown our rooms.

Again, these took the prize as the best rooms I'd ever stayed in. Everything was open and breathing with natural life that dwelled openly in Rivendell. Even the bed was so nice that I became sorta sad I didn't really need to use it.

Vamps don't sleep remember.

Jacob and I were put in a pair of bedrooms by our elven guide (female…she too was beautiful and graceful…starting to see a theme with this species); both connected by a garden balcony overlooking the mountains and waterfalls (freaking waterfalls!).

As soon as we got settled, the sun dipped into dusk. Aro instructed us to keep to our rooms and not go wandering around.

"We will reconvene tomorrow before myself and Sulpicia meet with Lord Elrond," he said.

Yay. Nobody loves morning staff meetings as much as I did.

Turning to head off to some much needed privacy away from the other vamps (Jacob skipped the evening rendezvous and was busy wolfing out in our garden…I felt really bad that he couldn't go running around yet), Aro instructed me to stay. Gritting my teeth, I halted and snarled back at Jane when she purposefully shoved into me while leaving.

"Yeah?" I asked Aro, crossing my arms. Whatever he needed to say better be short and to the point.

Sorry for the attitude, buddy, but I just spent an entire day with you in close proximity. Not really a dream come true for me.

"Bella, my dear," his voice in the smooth tone it took when Aro was in manipulation mode, "I've chosen you and the werewolf to survey for a specific reason. Unlike the rest of our coven, you've chosen not to feed on humans. The elves will sense this. Already, I believe Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel know of it."

"So…" I shrugged, not quite understanding where this was going but pretty sure it was no place good and upright from a moral standpoint.

"So," Aro continued, his smile sickly innocent, "I wish for you to gain their trust. Due to our unfortunate history with Middle-earth (oh, do you mean the whole destroying the first human race deal?...yeah, that really put a damper on foreign relations), the peoples of this land will be hesitant to trust us. There are secrets I must know, Bella. Things they will never disclose to us no matter how much we work within their graces-"

"Basically what you're saying," I interrupted before he could really get into a tangent, "is that you want me and Jacob to sneak past their prejudice-fueled defenses and play spy for you?"

"More or less," he replied, seemingly very pleased I was able to follow along.

There are two ways I could have dealt with this. One: refuse, stand for my ethical principles and proudly tell Aro where he could stick his field assignment. Up side, a great big swell of pride to carry around for the rest of my existence. Downside, Aro would probably end my existence rather quickly and send Jane to torture and kill Jacob. Second choice: suck it up, agree to do Aro's bidding, perform a half-baked job, and report back a bunch of b.s. to get him off my back. Up side, none of the aforementioned downsides occur.

"Please keep in mind, Bella," Aro said; must have noticed my prolonged pause as hesitation to become another of his butt monkeys, "I am your greatest ally here. Refusing me would only isolate you and your beloved Jacob."

Hold it together, Bella, subdue the urge to throw furniture at the jerk-off with feminine hair.

"Sure, whatever," I bluntly answered and super-sped back to my bedroom with what tiny bit self-control and pride still remained in me.

Agreeing with Aro always left me with a yucky feeling inside.

"A-hole!" I stomped over and thudded myself face-first into the bed while shouting. Feeling slimy and pissed off, I kicked off my slippers and snuggled into the bed. Cocooning myself under the sheets and pillows, I tried to block out Aro and the rest of his butt monkeys.

Since I had hours to spare until tomorrow's daylight, I laid there in pathetic self-pity until Jacob's scent and sounds indicated him walking over into my room. Bouncing in my blankets when he hopped onto the bed, I snuggled over to my best friend and felt myself relax a tad.

Best friends work better than chicken noodle soup always.

We laid there, not talking, sharing in the serene night song of chirping insects and rushing water for an uncounted amount of time.

"Okay," Jacob spoke softly, "What the hell kind of name is _Glorfindel_? If that dude didn't have the sweetest set of armor and three weapons at his hilt, I'd swear he was a little more than gay."

I had no idea if Jacob just said that for my benefit. Either way I giggled under the sheets and felt a hundred times better than earlier.

He nudged at me then sank down further into the bed. "So what did Lord A-hole want?"

Sighing and pulling the sheets from over my forehead and eyes to pear out at Jake, I answered with the same low volume, "We're suppose to spy on the elves tomorrow, while he plays the politics."

And being Aro's butt monkey makes me feel super gross about myself.

Shrugging, Jacob responded, "So what, we'll blow them off and take in the sights. Later on, when he asks, we'll make up some bull that sounds real. No problem, Bells."

I. Love. This. Werewolf.

As my best friend and a surrogate brother that is.

I loved Jacob Black for so many reasons. Especially though, he was essentially wonderful because he knew when I needed to chill and how to get me to not freak out. Even when things were worth freaking out over.

"Couldn't agree more, Jake," I smiled up to him in agreement.

"Good," he pecked a small kiss atop my head, "Let's get some shut eye."

Slipping under the covers of my bed, Jake settled in with me for a night's rest. True, because of my vampire ways, sleep wasn't needed. In the beginning years, I never slept. Once Jacob and I started traveling together, though, it felt weird to have him conked out for hours while I waited. Most of the time I read or learned quiet skills (yours truly can brag up knitting, counting cards, and origami). Eventually, I got into the habit of drifting into a deeply relaxed state, not quite as deep as sleep, during Jacob's off-hours.

Also, about the whole situation of us sharing a bed. We've camped outside together so many times and shared close sleeping quarters for so long it wasn't any big deal. Yes, we cuddled a little, but in the way you cuddle with a close guy friend with no implications for more than platonic feelings.

Platonic. One word to describe Jacob and I.

So get all those Jacob-Bella-ship thoughts out of your head right now!

* * *

Morning came with a "yeep!" from the elf-maiden who played guide for us yesterday. Opening my eyes to sunlight and a shocked looking elf with a hand over her mouth, I slowly sat up in bed and off-handedly wondered why she was acting like snakes were slithering out of my nose.

Weird visuals pop up in the morning.

"What's wrong?" I asked her as my body climbed out of bed; careful to keep my voice soft since Jacob was still sound asleep, crumpled in the sheets.

Pulling her hand from her mouth, the elf whispered back, "My apologies, mistress. Last night I was under the impression you and Master Black weren't married."

Jacob? Me? Married? What were people smoking around here? Platonic people! We are platonic.

"We're_ not_ married," I stated the obvious to a very confused elf.

"Oh," her blush deepened to a pretty rose color (for crying out loud, even their embarrassment was attractive) and she looked away for a moment.

"I proposed but she wouldn't have me," Jacob said from where he laid.

The elf's eyes widened in shock.

Perfect.

I growled and threw a pillow at Jacob's smirking form.

"Shut up!" I yelled back at the moron; facing back to the poor lady, I just shrugged. It wasn't like we were sticking around long enough to care about virtuous reputations or anything.

While I went on a hunt for my slippers, the elf informed us breakfast was on the balcony and extra clothes were in the washing room. Then she bowed and dashed out the door.

Wonder why she was in such a great hurry to leave?

At the mention of food, Jacob scrambled out of bed and went outside to eat (sigh…men and their stomachs). We took turns washing and decided to keep our own clothes. I never sweated and rarely soiled my clothing on normal (non-gory battle) days, and we already brought eight pairs of pants for Jacob in case he turned wolf without dropping his drawers first.

Heading out to the living quarters, we gathered with the rest to hear Aro's good-morning speech.

Not all that riveting (what a shocker). I blanked it out so don't ask about details.

Finally (and I mean _finally_), Jacob and I found ourselves without the company of any Volturi bloodsuckers.

Freedom at last!

When we got outside the establishment and in the forest, Jacob disappeared behind a tree and threw over his pants for me to hold onto. Familiar sounds of his phasing preceded a large brown-haired wolf walking out from the tree. Sharing a glint of excitement with wolf-Jacob's dark eyes, I gave the nod and off we went.

Super-speeding was second nature for vampires, including myself. Racing through this untouched forest with my friend close behind, filled me with elation and energy much appreciated after the last two days of sitting still and following orders. Through the trees, up the rocks, along the riverbanks, we bounded.

Why couldn't more days be like this?

Circling Rivendell for what must have been the fortieth time, my intuition and senses caught the aroma of something tracking us. Stopping abruptly, I waited and listened. Several yards behind me, Jacob also stopped and sensed the area around us.

Above us, in the high trees, came the whiff of elf. I expected this; actually, I expected this sooner.

"You might as well show yourself," I called out, "I can smell you, so there's no point in hiding."

Jacob gave a bark for good measure.

Mimicking Glorfindel's move, an elf fell straight down to land only about five feet in front of where I stood.

Big surprise. He was young and yummy to look at.

This one shared Elrond's dark features in hair and eyes, but not the elf-lord's stoic, serious presence.

Since he wasn't talking, I kept my mouth shut and felt it best to let him make the first move.

He stepped to his left…

…I stepped to my left.

Pausing and corking a pretty, thin eyebrow, the elf again stepped to his left. Again, I mirrored his move. Pretty soon we had walked in a complete circle. Neither breaking eye contact.

Lifting his chin and flashing those immortal eyes, the elf said, "Tell me, vampire. What do I smell of?"

Okay, didn't expect that.

Corking one of my own eyebrows, I answered with slight bewilderment, " You want to know…how you _smell_?"

Tilting his head to the side, the elf replied, "It has been a curiosity of mine."

"He won't believe," a voice matching the one possessed by the elf in front of me called, "my opinion that he smells of rotten elder berries."

To my disbelief, out from behind me entered another elf sharing the exact body and face of elf numero uno.

Yikes! Twice the yumminess. That melting sensation from before began to creep up. Must subdue! Must subdue!

Yummy elf numero uno said something to yummy elf numero dos I couldn't begin to understand since it was in some language probably native only to this world. I instead watched them with amazement that there were two, exactly alike in appearance and voice.

They both looked back at me once their short conversation of Middle Earth gibberish ended (pretty sure Goldy-gorgeous mentioned a language called Sindarin). My mouth, unchecked by my brain, spit out the first thing that came up.

"There's two of you."

"Glorfindel is correct," one of the yummy elves whispered none too softly to his doppelganger, "She appears a bit slow in the head."

Awe at their hotness immediately gave way to flustering frustration. I was not 'slow in the head'!

"Brother," the other reprimanded, "Do not insult our guest. Perhaps she is having trouble processing this experience. Father did say these vampires had never encountered elvenkind before."

So much for reprimanding. Twinkling their disgustingly perfect eyes at me, both brothers (yes, I caught up to the fact that before me stood twins) watched my flustering grow.

"Who are you?" I demanded, defensively crossing my arms.

"Pardon us, vampire mistress," elf (pretty sure it wasn't the first one I met) bowed his head, "We forgot ourselves in your fascinating presence (will _not_ go all melty at that backhanded complement). I am Elladan and this brash creature at my side is Elrohir. Sadly, he is my brother."

Elbowing his brother at the insult, Elrohir bowed as well. "We are the sons of Elrond Half-elven, Lord of Rivendell."

Crap, now I couldn't insult the yummy, rude twins. They were the offspring of my host.

Performing my elementary curtsy/bow combo, I replied to them, "Since you already talked to Goldy-gorgeous about me, I'm guessing you know my name."

'Goldy-gorgeous' Elladan mouthed and his eyes sparkled brighter with a boyish glint (I had a feeling this one was a troublemaker). On the other hand, his brother said, "Yes, Lord…Glorfindel informed us of your presence, Mistress Bella Swann. As well as that of your shape-shifting companion." Elrohir's eyes moving their direction to behind me where I knew Jacob still waited beyond the brush.

"We find him rather fascinating as well," Elladan remarked with an excited smile, "Could we request to bear witness to his shape-shifting?"

Finding this request improper, Elrohir backhanded his brother's armor and said something in elfish gibberish.

These two were a hoot!

"Sure, I don't care," I shrugged then tossed Jacob's pants to Elladan, "Give these to him when he's done. I'm guessing your father wouldn't appreciate a naked person running around his town."

They reminded me of children racing towards the ice cream truck as the twins scampered off to watch Jacob phrase. Because of our need to play nice with the elves, I was certain Jacob wouldn't object to a small audience. I choose to stay behind due to the fact that I'd seen Jacob in the buff a number of times when phasing couldn't be avoided in my presence.

When I could avoid wolf-Jacob turning into naked-Jacob, I did.

Once the phrasing completed, the twins invited Jacob and I on a tour around Rivendell. It wouldn't shock me if I found out they were assigned to keep a 'friendly eye' on us. I really didn't care. The twins were actually fun to hang around with.

As I guessed before, Elladan took the role of mischief-maker (and shameless flirt) out of the two. He smiled (mmm, yummy) more than Elrohir and always interrupted his brother's stories with some funny detail. On the flipside of the pair, Elrohir was also pleasant to be around but more calm and quiet than his brother. His knowledge on Middle Earth and tales were amazing to hear. From their stories, Jacob and I learned the brothers shared millennia of trained skills as warriors.

During our morning and afternoon of touring, the twins also told us of Rivendell's history (their father founded the place originally as a safe haven and place of learning for elves and some men). We responded with a few stories of some rather memorable battles from our own pasts.

They did ask a few questions about werewolves and vampires. Very basic ones, such as the transformation, how old we could get, our natural skills. When I mentioned that I maintained eating habits of only animal blood, they both paused and pulled the same face their father did.

"Vampires need not feed on humans?" Elrohir asked, sounding really shocked at this discovery.

"No," I shook my head, "Humans are our natural food source, but we can learn to survive on animal blood instead."

"Is it a struggle?" Elladan asked.

Give a small snort (yeah, I'm the picture of ladylike behavior), I replied, "Like you wouldn't believe. That's why most vampires feed on humans. In the first few years, we can't even be around humans without risking the overpowering pull of their blood."

"But it's not impossible to overcome," Jacob grumbled, not taking my excuse for the majority of my species' behavior.

"Are any of your company feeders of beast's blood as well?" this time Elrohir asked (they liked to do this see-saw thing when taking turns talking).

"No…well, there's one family in the other elven place that I'm close to that doesn't eat humans. Everyone else in Rivendell, though, lives on humans. You can tell by our eyes. Red eyes means a diet of human blood. Amber eyes means non-human diet."

Both twins nodded and stayed silent for a while, deep in their thoughts about what I said. As we came closer to the other side of Rivendell's settlement, my ears caught onto the sounds of clashing metal.

"Is there any reason people would be fighting around here?" I asked the brothers.

"We are coming upon the training grounds," Elrohir answered.

This would have been a fine and dandy answer if, as we got closer, the very unique scent of vampire wasn't also coming from the area of the training grounds. This scent combined in the air with the smell of human men (along with the sounds of thudding heartbeats). Glancing to my side at Jacob, he returned it with a frown. We both started walking faster towards the training grounds; the sons of Lord Elrond close at our heels.

Things didn't improve at all as I closed in on the location. Atop the sensing of vampire presence, I inhaled the odor of vampire saliva…

…which only appeared when a vampire felt the strong urge to feed.

This wasn't gonna be good.

I practically super-sped to the grounds. Rounding the last corner, Jacob and I paused as we processed the scene in front of us.

In the middle of the training grounds, Felix and Jane were hunched over two people. Pinning them helplessly to the ground and baring their teeth, ready to feed.

Darn it all!

Beside me, Jacob roared.

* * *

_AN: And another chapter brought to you to enjoy! Please review! I love that you all are responding and enjoyed the last chapter. I'm glad you like my portrayal of Aro. Several other chapters in the future will be of other characters POV. Anyway, review and I'll set in the next chapter! REVIEW!_


	6. There's always a good reason to punch

_Disclaimer: In case you didn't know, Lord of the Rings is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien and Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

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Chapter 5: Howls and growls and too many meetings

Beside me, Jacob roared.

Not the smartest move by my fellow crime fighter. It alerted Felix and Jane, who looked up at us and gave their own vampire roars (I personally don't care for the vampire roar…it sounded as threatening as deep throat hissing).

Oh well, time for the big fight scene.

Zipping forward, I leapt at Felix. In pretty good reaction time, he grabbed at my shoulders while I body-slammed him off the human. We sailed several yards and bombed into the ground. Thanks to my smaller frame, he easily twisted us over and pinned me to the dirt.

Luckily, Felix never took advantage of learning skills outside of what Aro allowed. What he surpassed me in size, I made up for in ability and strategy.

Almost as soon as Felix had me laid out, he made the mistake of lifting his head to look me better in the eyes to gloat. Idiot. Raising my knee, I uppercut his jaw then extended and clamped both of my legs over his shoulders to grasp his neck. Flipping us over again, I quickly untangled myself. Gave the jerk a hard smack across the face then took hold of his arm and locked it. For good measure, I kneeled down and placed my knee in his stomach and foot in his 'special place.'

"What the hell are you thinking!" I shouted, barreling off from a cocktail of rage, adrenaline, and embarrassment for being associated with these nimrods.

Jerk-off had the gonads to smile back at me.

"We were merely sparing," Felix whispered with nauseating delight, "I'm afraid I got a bit curious about his blood. He smells different than humans in our world, my love. You should try some."

Curious! He was curious!

"You do realize you're using a serial killer's excuse?" I shot back and slammed his body into the ground some more.

Over to our right, Jane and wolf-Jacob were in a standstill. Neither moving as they were teed up in stances, ready for whichever attacked first.

Not breaking her concentration on Jacob, Jane hissed at me, "How dare you attack us!"

Was she flippin kidding me or had Jane's murderous dementia finally affected her short-term memory?

Before I could question the little bloodsucker's cognitive functions, His High-and-Mightiness decided to show up and join the party.

"What is going on here?" Aro's voice bellowed across the training circle.

"Bella mistook our training session as a threat and interrupted," Felix was quick to reply; guile glittering from the twinkle in his eyes.

The only twinkle in my eyes would come from ripping his eyeballs out of their sockets.

"Bull!" I shouted back, still looking down on Felix with bared fangs (yes, we vampires have fangs in our array of natural arsenal…they're retractable which is helpful when you don't want to freak out the nice lady who does your dry-cleaning).

"She attacked us, master," Jane whined, "Her and this disgusting dog."

Jacob gave a manly wolf-bark and growl. Definitely thirsting for some vamp flesh.

Far too rapidly for my comfort, things were getting too tense and too ridiculous. Someone needed to take hold of the situation before it turned into a clusterfudge of blood and violent gestures.

"They speak only in lies to you, vampire lord," apparently that someone needed was behind me (someone who didn't consider the consequences of calling vamps liars), "These of your house would not release myself or Master Frodo from their hold. With my eyes, I could see a dark hunger growing within them. The other vampire-lady and her wolf only intervened when she saw her fellow kind as the threat they were to us."

Didn't expect that someone to add in a defense to my honor. Thank you, unknown someone.

Since Aro arrived, I reasoned the likelihood of Felix attacking me again lessened to practically zero, so I hopped off him. Once on my feet, I got a good look around at the explosion of action that I missed during my scuffle with Felix.

Apparently Rivendell was holding a Dungeons and Dragons convention this week.

Fat. Thin. Tall. Short. Elves. Humans. Unidentifiables...pretty sure at least one of the small people was a dwarf.

Just my luck. I finally had just cause to slug it out with Felix, and we ended up dueling in the middle of a nerd's wet dream.

Turning around to check that human I saved, the one who called Jane a liar and defended me, was all right, I found a grown man with a hand to his hilt and steady eye on my coven's leader standing upright and with the appearance of good health…among other traits.

Rugged. First word that came to mind with this guy was rugged. Everything about him screamed battle and woodland. His hair was dark brown and unruly set on his shoulders. What skin showed was callous and tan. Steel blue shown out of his eyes, and his demeanor was unflinching. This was a man not easily shaken.

Oh..he was hansom too. Not to the point of the elven yumminess, but definitely attractive in a mysterious, sturdy kind of way. With that Clint Eastwood, Man with No Name, air of appeal.

Wonder if that's a prerequisite with people in Middle Earth? Want to live here? Must be pretty/hansom/appealing enough to cause distraction.

Speaking of pretty people, behind mysterious-man, Elladan and Elrohir had out their bows with arrows ready, pointed at Jane and Felix. Both shared a distinct looked of pissed off.

Alright, folks. Time for a weapons check. The twins, along with Glorfindel (no idea when he showed up…probably jumped down from whatever tree he had been climbing) who was at my right and another blonde elf (very yummy…mmmm…enough with the melting, Bella!) by Glorfindel, all had out their archery sets aimed at various points. Mysterious-man and another human male (this one with golden brown hair, shinier blue eyes, and heftier built…again, worthy of distraction) had their hands at their swords.

Oh, and one of the short people (the taller one with a long, red beard eating up most of his face) had a tricked-out axe raised.

Arrows, axes, and swords. Archaic choices. Respectable and effective if one knew how to use them properly. Sadly, virtually useless against a small horde of insulted vampires.

Yeah, if the you-know-what hit the fan. Guess who will be the one defending basically everyone?

"I am sure you are mistaken, sir," Aro strained a smile at mysterious-man (really strained…can't imagine the agonizing pain he went through having to speak to a human with no intention of eating it), "My coven means you no harm. Our natural superiority in strength-"

"You dare call our brother a fool!" Elladan (or Elrohir…still not sure which is which on a moment's notice) demanded to know. His grip tightening on the neck of the bow. The arrow's tip changed directions to center at Aro's chest.

Oh man, if that arrow actually had a chance of killing Aro and Elladan/Elrohir let it fly, I'd literally make out with that elf until he fainted from suffocation.

"Since the arrival of the damned ones," unknown blondie elf by Glorfindel piped up with malice all over his tone, "a shadow of deceit has hovered in the air of Imladris. Those scorned for eternity by Eru (he took turns glaring at each vamp in the vicinity…even yours truly…that really made me feel special inside) only speak with lies on their tongues and evil in their hearts."

Wow…a bit harsh. Poetic but harsh.

"This only seems threatening to you all because Bella interfered!" Jane shouted; still fighting to see the blame fall on my shoulders, "It is she who should be held accountable."

Right. Time to dive in and see what damage I could add.

"Oh for crying out loud, Jane!" I yelled back at the tiny-pain, "Everyone here knows that's as solid as horse crap. You and Felix wanted to cop a feel at some foreign blood and got caught red handed – forgive the pun – and now you're both making us seem like a bunch of culprits by not growing a pair and owning up to it. And you (I pointed at Aro…Hey, I was on a roll, might as well turn this spare into a strike), you are not helping the situation by calling this guy (pointed at mysterious-man) an idiot."

I thought my peripheral vision got a shot of Glorfindel cracking a second-long grin before returning to terminate-vampire-threat mode.

"Hold your tongue, girl!" Aro exploded at me, "Or I shall see it removed. Your council was not requested."

And just as I was about to call my boss a wonderful variety of colorful names-

"On the contrary, Lord Aro. Only this morning you said Miss Bella Swann was a valuable member of your coven. Surely one who deserves such praise from her superior must be heard."

In from behind Aro arrived another wave of power. Ancient and breathtaking and very similar to that of Mr. Blue's – I mean Morinehtar's – presence. Once he stepped into view, I swore the guy…old man…whatever could have been Mr. Blue's brother. Beard. Big nose. Hypnotizing eyes. Dressed in robes (this time in grey robes). Leaning on a tall, wooden staff.

Whatever Morinehtar was, this guy shared the same electricity.

Also, whoever this creature was, most everyone else (everyone who wasn't in Middle Earth on a temporary visa that is) recognized him. In an almost collective sweep, arrows and axes lowered and hands left their hilts.

"Perhaps," Mr. Grey placed a hand on Aro's shoulder, who immediately went rigid and just as quickly slumped over a bit as the tension appeared to lift off him from the touch (note to self: have old, powerful guy teach me that trick), "We should all regain some peace and allow the cooler heads to prevail. A time of separation may bring about solution."

While still in his semi-trance, Aro agreed (really need to learn that trick!) and sent Jane and Felix off to their rooms. Think he said something to me as well, but I mentally blocked it out.

You threaten my tongue, I stop listening to you for at least a full day.

After the leeches left, two grumbling and one more relaxed than I'd ever seen him before, I nodded at Jacob that it was okay for him to leave. Off my brother sprinted, leaving me alone with a fruit salad of alien species.

* * *

Not one to introduce myself right off the bat (also, this didn't seem like the best time to make new friends), I headed towards the twins, who were speaking to mysterious-man and patting him on the back. All three stopped talking as I approached.

That was a little awkward for me, since I didn't know how they all would react. Points in my favor for saving a guy's life (a guy the twins claimed was their brother even though he clearly smelled human and they were very elfish). Points against me for being a card-carrying member of the coven who attacked and insulted the guy I had to save.

Yeah, this was more than a little awkward. I really didn't want the twins to hate me. They were fun and hanging out with them gave Jacob and I something to do instead of being at Aro's beck and call.

"So," I gnawed at my lip (nervous habit that's stuck around since my human days), "Are you all right?" This question directed toward mysterious-man. Kind of redundant since his earlier behavior spoke for itself, but it was still polite to ask.

"I am well," mysterious-man replied; not appearing threatened by my close presence, "Your assistance was most helpful."

Then my stupid mouth went off again.

"Assistance?" I corked an eyebrow, "No offence, but you'd probably be dinner by now if I hadn't come in."

Mysterious man raised his eyebrows at my response (looking a tad insulted but mostly surprised). The twins started laughing…morons.

"You see why we find her so amusing, _Estel_," Glorfindel said as he joined our circle. A cocky smile on his stupid, adorable face.

_Estel_ (weird name for a guy…not gonna mention that aloud though) merely grunted.

Nowadays I was more than grateful for the lack of blood in my face (no blushing! Yay!).

Getting passed my 'moment' of word vomit, _Estel _(seriously?...that's his name…someone really looked at their baby boy, hoping he'd grow up to be big and strong and warrior-like and said, 'Hey honey, how about the name 'Estel') nodded to me and said, "I apologize if I have insulted you, milady. Again, I am most grateful for your…rescue. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

He extended his hand, which I took and replied, "Oh, right…I'm Bella Swann…daughter of Charlie Swann. Pleased to meet you."

Expected him to shake and let go. No, mysterious ma – sorry – _Aragon _(thought his name was _Estel_?…probably another one of those two named things…need to keep an ear out for that or else the elves will think I'm really 'special')…

So anyway, Aragon didn't let go of my hand. He bent right over and kissed it! Just smacked his lips on the outside of my hand and bent right back up, let go, and acted as normal as breathing.

Okay…he didn't really 'smack' his lips. More like kissed my skin lightly for not even a second, in a practiced manner. Very elegant.

It's just I hadn't been kissed in a while (and I mean a **while**). Kinda caught me off guard.

Practically bouncing from my obvious discomfort, which he found hilarious, Elladan said to Aragorn, "Bella comes in company of her brother, Jacob Black, who has a most fascinating ability-"

"-he can shape-shift into the wolf who protected Master Frodo," Elrohir finished.

"Ummm," my brain was still focused on that fact that Aragorn just broke my seventy-two year streak of no kissing (not the longest recorded time between kisses for me), so I didn't notice the twins do that weird twins-finishing-sentences thing or Aragorn look startled at what they said.

"Did you two bear witness to the change?" Glorfindel asked them, intrigued as well by the subject of Jacob the Were-Boy Wonder, "I have only see the shifter in his wolf form. Immensely larger than most local beasts, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes," Elrohir replied, "Master Jacob did allow us the privilege of watching him change. It was a marvelous evolution to behold."

Great. How about you all get t-shirts and form Team Jacob. That boy could really use a boost in ego.

"So…," I said to Aragorn, jumping back into the conversation (with intent to end this Jacob love fest), "You're the twins' brother? How does that work?"

Double checked again. Still no pointy ears on this one.

"Adopted brother," he explained then cast a glance of mixed adoration and peevishness towards the dork brothers. Had a feeling Aragorn knew all too well what the twins were capable of in terms of mischief. "Their father, Lord Elrond, took my mother and I in when I was a boy. My bloodline descends from that of Lord Elrond's own twin brother, Elros."

"But you're human?"

"The House of Elrond is half-elven, or Peredhil," Glorfindel answered my question, "Their blood is that of a noble mixed race of elves and men. Because of Lord Elrond and Elros' heroic paths, the Valar allotted them the decision as whether to choose the mortal or immortal path."

"And Elrond chose elven," I finished out loud for him, "While your ancestor (pointed at Aragorn) chose human. Right?"

Again, Aragorn nodded. Not a man of many words, this one.

Then, to my ongoing annoyance, he said something to the elves in their native gibberish. Something that they all felt I need not be privy. Facing me again, Aragorn bowed his head slightly (better than a hand kiss…that's a little too much in my personal bubble) and said, "It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Mistress Bella Swann. My life is in your debt. I hope we see each other again before you depart Rivendell."

And how do I follow up that mouthful?

"Yeah. Me to," I semi-shrugged (Elladan elf-snorted…I glared).

Sorry my manners aren't up to elven par, moron.

One more head bow to me. A manly shoulder-clap to the elves and off Aragorn, son of…whatever went.

"You have truly captured the House of Elrond, young one," complemented Glorfindel, "If only the rest of your kind share the same decency in spirit and action."

"Yeah," I snorted quietly, "I hear that's the day hell freezes over and the Chuck Norris jokes finally stop (over five-hundred years past and they're still going strong)."

Thankfully, the three elves ignored my statement and instead turned the conversation to a hate-fest on Felix, Jane, and Aro.

These were my kind of people.

"Vile creatures," Elladan growled (normal growl), gazing over at the spot where the brawl took place, "Would have liked to stick an arrow through one."

"As would I, brother," Elrohir agreed, "For now though, we must report back to Father on all we have witnessed."

Grunting in agreement, Elladan replied with a sure voice, "When Arwen hears of this, she will demand Father ask Eru to damn them all over again."

Before I could ask, the twins started walking away at their graceful fast pace and continuing in elfish gibberish. Glorfindel stayed behind and offered to walk me back to my chambers.

"Who's Arwen?" I asked him as we got going.

"Arwen Undomiel is the only daughter of Lord Elrond and younger sister of Elrohir and Elladan," Glorfindel answered, though he seemed slightly distracted, looking at the forest and surrounding buildings as we walked out of the training field, "She is the Lady of Rivendell and Evenstar of her people. One of unchallenged beauty and grace, whom brings hope and compassion passed down from the days of Luthien."

Man, these people really knew how to turn a simple answer into a sermon.

"So her and Aragorn are pretty close?"

Still glancing around, Goldy-gorgeous nodded, "Despite the hesitancy in support from her father, Lady Arwen has fallen in love with Lord Aragorn. Their hearts are pledged to one another…"

He stopped in mid-sentence and left me with about fifty more questions about how Arwen happened to fall in love with her _adopted _and, not to mention, _mortal _brother.

Not that I would judge her on that. Over half of my best friends spend most of their time posing as human brothers and sisters who live and sleep together like a X-rated seventies commune. Trust me, no judgment from this side of the peanut gallery.

"Okay, what's wrong?" By this time, Glorfindel's attention was so completely off that I could have stuck my tongue to my nose and flapped my arms wildly and he wouldn't have noticed…probably.

"We are being watched," he informed me, finally setting his eyes on one particular set of tree canopy. Whoever felt need to play I-Spy with us kept themselves hidden behind the brush and branches, so I set my sonic-hearing to the area. True to Goldy-gorgeous' word, a single, steady heartbeat 'lub-dubbed' from behind those branches. I tried to reach for a smell as well, but all that came up was elfish. Another elf in Rivendell…not very informative. Though there was a hint more of mossy tree in its scent.

"Should we attack?" I suggested, "Or call someone-"

"_Bloo bakk nish wish yada yada yada_!"

Okay, Glorfindel's shout to the hidden elf didn't sound exactly like that…but do you finally see my point on how ignorance of communication can take its toll?

Once the yelling of elfish from Goldy-gorgeous ceased (from what I could decipher from my companion's tone, what he said wasn't a happy phrase and sounded a lot like a command), down from the treetops leapt the blondie elf from earlier. The one who stood next to Glorfindel and called us vamps 'damned by Eru'.

In the last twenty minutes, his opinion of my kind obviously hadn't changed to tolerance. In his perfect hands was a loaded bow, which was bent towards my general direction.

Again, Goldy-gorgeous shouted at blondie and then made a motion with his hand to lower the bow. The stranger did so without a word, sent an icy glare my way (I can feel the seeds of our friendship blossoming), and bounded off into the forest.

Sigh. Why do the hot ones always have to be jerks? Too bad too…his blue eyes were more than worth swimming around in.

With another crisis averted, Glorfindel moved to escort me the rest of the way to my room. "My deepest apologizes, Mistress Swann," he said, sounding embarrassed and frustrated, "His anger was not intended for you. Mirkwood elves feel it is their place to hold others to the faults of their people. Their numerous conflicts with the dwarves are result of that and have become a expectancy within their realm."

Dwarves? There are dwarves here? Was that the little people from before who Jane harassed? Enough, Bella, focus back on Goldy-gorgeous now.

Understanding all too well the signs of prejudice, I said, "It's okay. After what Jane and Felix did, I'll bet the Middle Earth's image of vampires is pretty much down the toilet."

From his expression, Glorfindel didn't quite understand what I said but still got the jist of it. "As magnanimous as you are, good lady," he replied, "such behavior is still condemnable. Especially from one of such noble blood."

We had gotten to the stone steps leading up to the apartments the Volturi had been granted. Placing my foot on to the first step, I asked, "He was a noble?"

"Yes. Our spy was the Prince of Mirkwood: Legolas, son of King Thranduil. As Thranduil has shown in the past, the young prince shares his father's proclivity to turn suspicion and stereotype to persecution and conflict."

"Well," I shrugged, hoping Goldy-gorgeous didn't think all this bothered me, "Can't win them all."

"Indeed," he smiled (hmmmm…yummy. Stop!) then turned his face toward the sky, "The evening hour is upon us. I must bid you a farewell for the day, Mistress Bella Swann. May Eru grant us shared company again tomorrow."

Smiling (another day with these pretty people – certain princes not included – didn't sound like a chore) I replied, "Have a good night, Glorfindel, and please, tomorrow start calling me Bella."

Parting ways, I zipped up the rest of the stairs.

* * *

The bloodsuckers seemed to still be in their chambers, so I didn't run into anyone thankfully. Nearing mine and Jacob's rooms, I lowered my speed to normal when the sounds of voices and laughter came from our shared garden balcony.

Stepping into the area, I found Jacob (pants included…along with – this is rare – a shirt) and four of the tiny people from before sitting around on benches. They were obviously well into a conversation, smiles on each face, and nibbling or sipping on the food and drink left on a wooden table beside them.

Unlike the bearded one from before, these four men were shorter (not even 4ft) and younger in appearance. Each has a tussle of curly hair, wore brightly colored pants and vests, and none of them had shoes on their little, hairy feet.

Ha! _These_ were the Christmas elves of Middle Earth.

"Bella!" Jacob called over to me from where he sat, towering over the rest of them.

Each little head swiveled around and I came face to face with bright eyes and mouths full of food. These four weren't pretty like the elves or hansom like Aragorn…they were freakin adorable! Like puppies!

At the sight of my presence, all four scampered to their feet and bowed (adorable!...for crying out loud, Bells, Shut Up!) to me.

"Hey," I waved and sent a look at Jake demanding he take the reigns on introductions. I'd already gone through too many meetings today on my own.

"Guys," my brother said to the four once they stood upright again, "This is my sister, Bella Swann. Bella, this is Frodo Baggins (one with brown curls to his shoulders and a little cuter than the rest…his smile, though, seemed a tiny bit strained and unrelaxed), Samwise Gamgee (easily the fattest of the four, with shorter, sunny blond hair), Meriadoc Brandybuck (long blond hair, intelligent eyes), and Peregrin Took (youngest looking and biggest smile…his hair the same color as Meriadoc's).

Frodo Baggins. Samwise Gamgee. Meriadoc Brandybuck. Peregrin Took. Best names ever.

"You may call me Pippin, fair lady," Peregrin said, elaborately bowing again. Earning a hard elbow and a whispered "Pip, behave!" from Meriadoc.

"Nice to meet you all," I replied, holding back a laugh at Pippin.

"Join us, Bells," Jacob patted the free seat beside him.

Going over and sitting down, everyone followed suit and got settled again.

Samwise motioned to the biscuits, cheese, fruit, and jug on the table. "Please take some food and drink, Miss Bella."

"I thought vampires only ate blood," Pippin whispered softly to his companions. This earned him 'shh's' and glares from all three of them.

"We do," I answered, not insulted in the least, but it still caused a bright, cherry blush on Mr. Took's cheeks (again, adorable) and he looked down on his folded hands in shame.

"I apologize for my cousin, milady," Meriadoc said to me, casting numerous glares at Pippin, "He does not often think before he speaks."

"Ahh, don't worry," I waved a hand at him, "I have the same problem. And yes (this time to Pippin), to answer your question, vampires do usually only drink blood. It's not that we can't eat normal food. We just don't need to."

"May I inquire, Miss Bella," Frodo finally said something, "how long have you been a vampire?"

"Umm," I thought for a second, "This should be my 516th year."

In unison, all four mouths formed an 'O' shape as they stared at me.

"You look very young, Miss Bella," Samwise said, still sounding awed, "Younger than any elf I have seen while in Rivendell. Granted, we only just arrived about a week ago."

Shrugging, I replied, "I was changed when I was 18. Our appearance doesn't age after the change."

"Actually," Jake added in, "If you count your human years, you're actually 534."

"Did changing into a vampire hurt?"

"Pippin!" all three yelled at the fourth's word vomit question.

Biting my lip again (don't really like discussing those three days…or thinking about them…at all), I tried to downplay it, "Oh, you know. No biggie. Got through it."

Jake, sucking more than me at keeping emotions in check, went rigid at the mention of my transformation. His body language practically singing rage.

The tiny people were beginning to look uncomfortable. Superb.

Eager to salvage the good humor of the group, I asked them, "Okay, two questions. What are you guys...species-wise that is? And which one of you did my brother save?"

First question I really was curious about. My money was on dwarves. The second I knew the answer to since I recognized Frodo's tussle of hair from being under Jane's hold. Also, Aragorn and the elves had mentioned 'Master Baggins' before.

"We are hobbits," Meriadoc answered with pride, "Small folk of the Shire. Lovers of ale, parties, and feasting."

Hobbits. First species in Rivendell I'd actually never heard of.

"To answer your second question, Miss Bella," Samwise said, "It was Mr. Frodo who Mr. Jacob saved from that devil girl."

At a closer look, it became noticeable that Samwise purposefully hovered around Frodo. They sat side-by-side, and since I arrived, Samwise had been keeping an eye on his friend. Checking that he was eating. Always paying close attention when Frodo said anything. Since Mr. Baggins didn't seem to mind, I didn't feel it too important to ponder on.

"We wanted to thank you as well for saving Strider, milady," Meriadoc said.

Strider?

"Strider?"

"Strider is what Aragorn first introduced himself as to us," Frodo explained.

From there, we all talked (the others ate) some more. Most of the conversation centered around the hobbits discussing their home. The Shire sounded like a simple, harmonious place (note to self: never mention to Aro or any other of the leeches…don't need them tainting every good thing in Middle Earth). Found out Mr. Grey's name was Gandalf the Grey and he was a wizard of mysterious power. Most of the Shire called him a nuisance, since he showed up years back and took Frodo's uncle, Bilbo, on an adventure.

Guess hobbits don't like adventures.

Oh, and the Meriadoc and Samwise assured me that I could call them Merry and Sam since I insisted on just being called Bella. Think Sam will still stick with Miss Bella, though. He appeared the most proper out of the bunch.

As the sun got lower and lower, and the food and drink disappeared, the hobbits switched topics to supper. Jacob, due to his werewolf appetite, delve into the conversation with about the same vivaciousness as the hobbits.

For crying out loud! What is it with men and food?

"They must be setting out the first course about now in the main hall," Merry said, practically licking his lips at the thought of more food.

"We better head over a bit early and get good seats this time," Sam replied, "This morning almost all the jam was gone by the time it got passed to us."

"Yes, the elves appear to favor jam on their toast over marmalade or butter," Frodo said.

"Let's go then, boys," Jake hopped to his feet.

"Will you be accompanying us, Bella?" Pippin asked, "I can assure you elfin food is quite fine."

"Can't hold a torch to a good pork roast served by the Green Dragon, of course," Sam added, his eyes far off in their gaze, obviously remembering the Green Dragon…whatever that place was.

"Do you mean the Green Dragon or a certain barmaid who works there, Sam?" Frodo elbowed his friend and grinned.

Sam's cheeks turned rose red and his mumbled incoherently under his breath. The other hobbits laughed. I shared a shrug with Jacob. Apparently, this was an inside joke for the little people.

As the others got up to leaved, I stood and waved them off, "I think I'll stay around here for tonight. Thanks for the invite though."

"Alright, but you must come some night after supper and sit in on the Hall of Fire," Pippin demanded, "The elves sing and tell the best tales in front of a roaring fire. The perfect evening with a cup of ale and a full pipe."

"Tomorrow night then," I agreed. Always up to listen to a good tale, though I think I'd pass on the alcohol and smoke. Never really been my scene.

"Might be a few hours, Bells," Jacob said; his eyes turned to concerned and he leaned in and pecked my cheek (FYI: Jake's kisses have never counted since they're brotherly pecks) then whispered close to my ear, "If those leeches try to get some revenge for earlier, you call me. Okay?"

Squeezing his arm softly, I replied, "You got it. Enjoy your evening."

Waving them all off again, Jacob casting one last look of concern my way (boy needed to worry less), I watched my brother head off to supper with his new bestest buddies.

They really looked comical walking off. My brother's 6 ft-plus gianting over those shorties.

Keeping my senses on high alert for any sneak-attack Felix or Jane might be stupid enough to try to pull, I jumped from my high balcony to a lower level bridge. By now, the sun was halfway dipped into the horizon and lanterns had been lit around Rivendell. Their white lights eliminated the Last Homely House in heavenly glow, and I felt content to just walk around.

Because everyone was probably at the hall having supper with Jacob and the hobbits, I didn't meet anyone during my walk. Unlike Jake and mine's run around earlier, I kept at a human pace just to enjoy Rivendell's inner sanctum. Zipping around at super-speed was more for the outdoors. Eventually, the bridges and hallways weaved through a few rooms with murals and fountains and sculptures. Mostly all depicting elves in battle or standing around looking wise. Walking through yet another wondrous garden, complete with waterfall (freaking waterfalls everywhere I tell ya!), I came through another doorway into a large room full of tables and shelves. A fireplace crackled from one wall, where cushioned chairs sat in front. Books and parchments scattered the shelves and tables with candles littered around to light up the room.

This was the first library I'd come upon in Rivendell.

Score!

Heading over the nearest shelf I grabbed on book and flipped it open.

Son of a monkey!

Every page was lines of elfish gibberish. Why must Eru be so cruel?

Setting the book back down (nicely…vandalizing literature is a grave offence I take no part in), I flipped through a few more. Still more gibberish. My mood was beginning to fall deeper and deeper into annoyed despair. Almost at my giving-up point, I found a book that did have gibberish for words but mostly filled with small painted pictures of plants and flowers.

Middle Earth's guide to botany would have to do.

Sitting down in one of the large chair in front of the fireplace, I flipped through page after page of plants and flowers. At a closer look I recognized words of places, such as Imladirs and Shire, but mostly I admired the detail of the paintings. Too quickly, I finished the book and went searching for another dominated by illustrations.

My kindergarten teacher would be so proud right now.

Luck would have it I found a pretty thick one full of maps. Getting settled again, I started going through each map. Trying to find one with Rivendell on it, so I had a starting point to work with.

I smelt her before she entered the library.

Not moving to indicate I knew of her presence, I stilled everything and listened as the softest footsteps I'd ever heard walked toward me. In the firelight she rounded from behind my chair…I literally gasped.

Angels apparently are real…because this lady was freakin glowing.

Now I'm not a homosexual by any means (my yummy remarks from before can attest to that), but this lady was beautiful with a capital B.

No duh, she was an elf. Long brown hair flowed down her shoulders. Eyes a silver blue. Lips a deep pink. Skin…glowing. She wore a gown of sequenced violet.

And her ears were pointy.

"Greetings, Bella Swann, daughter of Charlie Swann," she said to me (since my voice box was apparently on the off-switch), "I am Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Lord Elrond. May I sit with you?"

Nothing.

Crickets chirping.

Elf-lady still glowing.

Say something dammit!

"…You're pretty."

Really! Good gosh Bells! Did I really just say that? Kill me. Just kill me now. Purge the earth of my sorry existence.

Laughing a bit (sounded like chiming bells…not surprised), Arwen replied, "I will take that as permission to sit."

She floated down and sat, with perfect posture, in the chair in front of me.

Clearing my throat, and regaining ability over my primary functions, I said, "…I'm Bella Swann."

Still smiling. A glint in that smile. Yep, definitely a relation to the terrorist-twins. Arwen said, "Yes, I know of you, Mistress Bella Swann. My brothers could not cease their praises of you over dinner."

Once again: Yay for no blushing!

"Yeah, I met those two earlier. They probably think I'm mentally challenged or something."

Laughing again, this time louder, Arwen replied, "I can assure you Elrohir and Elladan spoke no ill will of your mental capabilities."

Feeling more comfortable around her, the awe of her angelic aura worn off a bit, I smiled back at Elrond's daughter.

"I see you have found a book of maps," she gestured to the literature on my lap, "Are you curious of our lands?"

"Yeah," I answered, "Also, I can't read a word of Sinmar-"

"Sindarin."

"Right..Sindarin, and this is one of the books with mostly pictures. Unfortunately, I have yet to find a map with Rivendell on it."

Smirking again, Arwen said, "That is because you are holding a book full of maps of civilizations during the First Age."

Pause.

Closing the book slowly, I mumbled, "This isn't the First Age, is it."

"No, young one," she replied, her smirk growing (and continually reminding me of Elladan), "This is currently the year 3018 of the Third Age."

"Oh."

Pause.

"Mistress Bella Swann," Arwen broke the silence.

"Wait," I halted her, "Please, call me Bella. Your dad is an elf-lord who founded this place and is at least 6,000 years old. And according to Glorfindel, you're like the hope and Evenstar of your people. If anyone gets a title, it's you. Not me."

Turning her head to look at me at an angle in curiousness, she pondered aloud, "My brothers were correct. You are a most strange creature, Bella."

I shrugged. What? In my books, it's better to be considered strange as opposed to murderous and loathed.

"Bella," she started again, making a purpose to say my actual name, "I must confess I sought out your company for a specific purpose."

Really?

"Really?" I wondered aloud. What could this elf-lady, far older than I, want with me?

"Yes," then she started ringing her hands a little (I'd seen enough of that from Sulpicia in the last few days to know this lady was getting nervous), "My _ada_…my father told me that Lord Aro spoke of your past a little."

Oh boy.

"He told my father that, when you were mortal, you had a relationship with a vampire."

Oh crap.

"As you must already know," her eyes desperate as she looked deep into mine (must avoid soulful elfish eyes! Must avoid!), "Aragorn and I have pledged our lives to one another. My father, in his wise but inflexible opinion, wishes me to leave Middle Earth with my people. I wish to stay with Aragorn."

Big sigh. "And you want my advice," I said, mentally decapitating Aro for telling people **my **business.

"I do," she conceded then peered down at her hands, "I know we only just met, Bella. Already I am in your debt for saving my love, and it is not my place to ask you to reveal your past to me…but I am _most _in need of guidance. (she looked back up…no joke, giving me puppy eyes…which are one hundred time more effective on elves) I have never came into acquaintance of another who played a part in a love affair between a mortal and immortal."

At least she wasn't pounding me questions about my transformation.

Arwen seemed honestly ashamed to be prying into my life. _And_ if she were half as honorable as Glorfindel said, she wouldn't go spreading around my story to her five closest BFFs. Making my five-hundred year old, crap-storm of a star-crossed love story in the latest Rivendell gossip.

Okay. Here goes. "Listen Arwen," I said tactically, "I don't know how much Aro told Lord Elrond, but the gist of it is that I fell in love with Edward when I was really really _really _young. Only seventeen. My experience with relationships before that was nada. My parents weren't a big help either since my mom was on her second husband, who she clung to like air, and my dad was still hung up on my mom…and she'd been gone almost twenty years."

"So you are suggesting your feelings for Edward were not wise," she deciphered my word vomit aloud.

"Exactly!" I replied, "Here I was, confronted with the most hansom, mysterious guy in school, saying he was an immortal and in love with me. What was I suppose to do? Arwen, I was literally ready to have him turn me into a vampire only a month after we started…courting."

"But he did not transform you into an immortal," she reasoned, "Perhaps Edward was more virtuous in this?"

"Not really," I answered, "He may not have turned me, but he sure didn't stop my feelings at the beginning, when he should have. The truth is, Edward figured out too late that we were doomed, and he left me hanging to save his own feelings…Really, I don't blame him for my turning. I just blame him for not being the mature one."

By this time, Arwen looked thoroughly depressed.

Sorry, honey. If you wanted sunshine and unicorns, you came to the wrong girl.

"Father calls our love doomed," she told me forlongingly, "For if I stay with Aragorn, I will die a mortal death."

Wait, why does she have to die? Is this the thing like with her dad and Uncle Elros?

"Actually," I said after a moment more of thought, "That's not a lot like Edward and I then. You see, all I wanted was forever with him. Once I got turned vampire, happily forever after with us was pretty much a given. With you and Aragorn, unless he finds some way to become elven, being together is a sacrifice. One, I'm sure, neither of you take lightly."

Shaking her head, looking sorrowful (probably at mention that her honey will someday die unlike a nice, elven boyfriend would), Arwen replied, "In Aragorn's eyes, I still see his reluctance to call me love. Even twenty years after our pledge to one another, he still wishes me an eternity away from him in the West."

Yep, nothing like me and Edward.

Hating to see a nice, beautiful, (I'm sure) pure in spirit lady like Arwen get her heart broken further by my gloomy outlook on love, I said with conviction, "Listen Arwen, you can't judge Aragorn and yours relationship by me and Edward's. We were only in the happy, sparkly love that teenage hormones produce. We didn't know anything about sacrifice and the consequences of a mature relationship. As far as we were concerned, anyone who didn't support us was dead wrong. And when the going got tough, our love crumpled into a sad aftermath. You and Aragorn though, you've managed to be together for twenty years (without doing the horizontal tango also…now that deserves a trophy of some kind). Being together means a lot of sacrifice, and you both know it. From where I'm sitting, you two seem in love, and I mean the real deal kind of love. Not the fairytale bull they feed to little girls at bedtime."

Back to smiling a little (hurray for tangents about hope!), Arwen responded, "Although I did not understand half of what you say, Bella, I see that you do not consider my love doomed as yours. I am sorry for your lost love, but am happy that mine does not mirror it."

Sitting back and sighing for the millionth time, I told her, "Hey, I'm happy too. Frankly, in my opinion, it's only vamps and humans that don't belong together. Whatever you elves want to do is fine by me."

Widening her smile at my response, Arwen's eyes then swept toward the doorway we both came in by…at the exact moment I felt a wave of power and ancientness. Looking serious, the elf-lady nodded at whoever was behind my chair and rose from her seat.

"Until we speak again, Bella," she curtsied gracefully to me and floated off before I could say goodbye.

Straitening up to view the next intruder, I wasn't surprised all that much when Gandalf the Grey walked into my line of sight.

Putting a hand on the seat Arwen had just risen from, he smiled at me (yeah, not buying it Grandpa) and said, "Mind if I take this chair?"

Shrugging, I answered, "Why not? This evening really couldn't get anymore awkward."

* * *

_AN: So sorry for the belated update. I just got back from a two week vacation in D.C. Everyone needs to go to the Holocaust museum! I mean it. In the meantime, review and give me your thoughts…because I love them! Review!_


	7. Rings from the pipe go round and round

_Disclaimer: As if you don't know, Lord of the Rings was written around 1949 by Oxford professor John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and Twilight Saga was written between 2003 and 2005 by Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

_

Chapter 6: (Godfather accent) You come to me, on the day my daughter is to be married, and you ask me to do (Pause) What!

Imagine sitting across from a grizzly bear. No, imagine being tied up to the chair that you're on as you sit across from a grizzly bear. Not a hungry grizzly bear, mind you, but a big, ferocious, tear-your-arms-off-in-a-blink grizzly bear.

That's about how I felt as I sat alone in the library with Gandalf the Grey…trying like hell not to twitch and fidget (Sulpicia's been doing enough of that for all of us).

A big part of me wanted him to start stroking his beard (what?...it would've been amusing and gotten my mind off grizzly thoughts). He didn't. Instead, Mr. Grey just kinda stared queerly (not gay-version) at me for several moments.

"So," I bit my lip (a-freakin-gain), wishing I'd stayed on the stupid balcony and played solitaire or smelled the roses or something, "…Nice night we're having….Not too hot. Not to cool."

"Yes," he agreed and stared at me some more…did this guy ever blink?

Pause.

He blinked…still wouldn't talk though.

Pause.

And this evening just reached a whole new level of awkward.

Pause.

What do you want ancient, grey man!

As if reading my mind, out of nowhere he stuck a hand under his cloak and said to me, "Mind if I light my pipe?" Then pulled out a long, finely crafted pipe.

"Huh," my response, "…Sure?"

Placing the stem of it in his mouth, smoke then began climbing up out of the bowl (yes, I noticed the lack of lighter…something told me this guy didn't have need for little things like matches). "I assure you," the wizard said, pulling his mouth from the pipe's lip and blowing a ring of smoke to my right, "The pipe weed found in Middle Earth smells immensely better than that of your world. Healthier as well. I would not smoke in the presence of a vampire had I thought it unpleasant for your heightened sense of smell."

"Umm?...Thanks."

Far be it from me to not let the grizzly bear smoke if he wanted to. The smell of it only made the room reek of smoldering ash and pure tobacco.

I'd been in New York City's subway system. Now that's a smell worthy of the bog of eternal stench.

"Tell me, Isabella," Gandalf went on, comfortably set unlike my unhinged self, "do you think Lord Aro to be a trustworthy vampire?"

Then he sparkling eyes squinted at me with concentration, focused on however I answered. Ready to critique.

Unfortunately for Mr. Grey, I was too flabbergasted by him using my real, full name to bother with thoughts about Aro.

No one, and I mean _no one_, has called me Isabella since…forever ago.

"Huh?" was all my throat breathed out, "C-Could you repeat that?"

Smoking and blowing out more rings (he was nice enough to never direct them straight at my face), Gandalf repeated the question.

Did I think Aro was trustworthy?

All right kids. You know what time it is? Word vomit time!

"No!" I responded without thinking (my brain was busy working out the intricate web that a…whatever…who I'd never met before, knew of my human name…a name not even Jacob used anymore), "I wouldn't trust Aro with my library card let alone in general."

Appearing a little surprised by my blunt answer, Gandalf then asked curiously, "Then why have you accompanied him to this place, if you do not trust him?"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the question of the day.

"I…I don't know," I admitted the half-truth, slumping back in my chair. My brain started to feel tuckered out and wished my body could follow suit so I could excuse myself from this conversation and go to bed.

But us awesome vampires don't need sleep. Yay us.

"Yes, you do," he told me, dropping the mysterious curiosity and going for serious and wise, "Isabella, you are a clever woman, who would not allow herself to be led astray if she could help it."

"Hey, you don't know me!" I snapped back, not a great response to a wizard of untold power, but this conversation was wading into deep waters and my comfort level was left without floaties.

Still puffing away, Gandalf's face then turned annoyingly understanding, "Isabella Swann. An appearance so young for such an aged soul. I see in your eyes the anger and sorrow you endure having to walk through eternity with those that took a good life from you all those years ago. Yet you put aside that pain for a nobler cause. I know you still keep company with Lord Aro to assure yourself that you have done everything in your power to constrain his evil from the innocent and pure in your world. That, in my opinion, is why you traveled to this place with him."

Great. You got me figured out. Now I can leave here with a new understanding of purpose in life.

This is why I tended to avoid therapy.

"Why do you even care what I think about Aro?" I asked then continued, not waiting for a reply, "Here's the thing. Seeing as how you already know _so much_ about me means you probably have a good read on Aro also. You want to know what I think of him? I think he's a complete narcissist who would kill his own wife if she endangered his precious power trip. I think that the only reason I'm still around is because I've kept myself on the sidelines most of the time and stayed out of his way. I think Aro only agreed to come to Rivendell because he's curious about something that nobody is talking about. I think Aro isn't a good person and that's never going to change. But you already know this, Mr. Gandalf, because I think you are usually the smartest person in the room. So again I ask, why do _you_ care what _I_ think?"

This tangent got a smile from the ancient, grey wizard. "I ask, because I wish to know your quality, Isabella."

"My quality?"

"Yes," he nodded…and blew another ring of smoke (ring number 34 I believe), "You have proven the assumptions Lord Elrond, Chief Glorfindel, and I already held (well it's good to know the big wigs have been gossiping about me..not at all creepy). That you are of the trustworthy, honorable nature. Indeed, very unique to find in a vampire." Saying the last part as an afterthought to himself. Focusing back on me, Gandalf continued, "I am assuming you know of Lady Sulpicia and Lady Athenodora's history and their betrayal to Queen Nienna and Our Father Eru."

I nodded.

"As one the Ainur, I decided, with my brethren, the bounty the damned ladies of Almaren owed in repentance to gain forgiveness for what they did to one of our holy race," he said, referring to the part in Sulpicia's tale where she and Athenodora drank blood from a dead Ainur, "We decided, after discovering the existence of the Dark Lord's weapon, that one of the damned house must take it upon themselves to hold equal responsibility to the fate of Middle Earth as we, the Istar."

Okay…understood about 70 percent of what he just said. What is an Istar?

"So that means…" I lingered off, indicated to him that I didn't quite follow all his Middle Earth lingo.

"It means," he explained, "That either Lady Sulpicia, Lady Athenodora, or a member of their coven must accompany the fellowship we have created to destroy the dark weapon and help in overcoming the great evil of Lord Sauron arising in Middle Earth. After much council, it has been decided that you, Isabella, are the wisest choice at participating in this quest."

Silence.

I didn't even continue with my regular hobby of breathing. Only complete silence covered the air (along with Gandalf's stupid pipe smoke puffing) in the library.

Was he f*&^ing joking?

A big something told me this guy didn't joke during the important stuff.

Crap on a cracker.

"What!" I yelled and stood from my seat, "Me! How can you choose me? I just told you I hate Aro! And you…What!"

Not at all fazed (that got on my frazzled nerves even more), Gandalf answered, "Logically, you are the wisest choice, Isabella. Many, including Lord Elrond's own kin, have testified to your choice of a beastly diet, so you wouldn't endanger the fellowship-"

"I'm sorry," I raved at him, still not completely processing the information of the last few seconds, "I sorry, but I can't stay in Middle Earth and help defend it. I only came here, because Sulpicia looked ready to toss her salad if I refused, and Aro threatened me a little. This isn't my problem. Really, I'm sorry for what happened to that Ainur person years back. It sucks, but it's not my fault. This isn't my problem to solve. I'm sorry."

Hyperventilating a little, I hightailed it out of that library as if Gandalf's smoldering pipe lit my butt on fire. Not looking back at to see how an ageless supreme being handled rejection, I super-sped (top speed) across Rivendell and back to my chambers in a matter of five seconds.

After whipping my body into a full 360 turn to check that no one bearded and robed had magically popped into my room, I then threw my slippers into the corner and nose-dived into my covers. Cocooning myself, much like the night before, in between the sheets, I closed my eyes tight and tried to force myself to sleep.

Hiding under my covers from a wizard. I had officially hit a new all-time low.

This was a joke. It had to be. Some sick, overplayed joke set up by Jane or Felix or, heck, even Aro to teach me a lesson about earlier. To insult my chosen lifestyle.

Yeah, I understood none of my excuse explained how they got Gandalf in on an elaborate prank. Maybe Jane illusion-pained him into it?

Two problems with that. One, Gandalf was a super-freak. An uber-power-filled creampuff. Jane going toe-to-toe with him would be like a kid dressed in a ninja suit taking on a decorated Navy Seal. No contest. True, I didn't hold the highest opinion of my coven (kindly put – hate the bastards), but even I would admit they had enough common sense not to try to cohere a Middle Earth wizard into anything. Problem two: if I remember the last two days correctly, since we set foot in Middle Earth, not one of us vampires have used our powers. During the fight earlier, Jane could have easily switched on her mojo and subdued Jacob in seconds, but she didn't.

What's up with that?

Whilst I laid there in a sorry heap, my mind decided to further better the situation by imagining all the things Gandalf could pop me into with his staff..wand…thing as repayment for rudely refusing to join the quest-club.

Newt (cliché). Rabbit (naa…he's a wizard, not a magician). Worm (ewww…no please). Snake (epp!). Monkey (uhh, no…they throw their poo). Bat (ironic).

In full honesty, I was waiting for Jacob to return from dinner. Not living with Alice, Esme, or Rosalie anymore dwindled the number of friends I could vent my feelings at. Jacob, in all his manliness, would probably prefer not to be my weepy shoulder, but he loved me. In times like these (such as when wizards and elves were ganging up on me to save their world from unspeakable evil), I held no qualms in taking full advantage of that love.

The minute my ears heard his feet finish climbing the stairs to our apartments, I flung the covers off and whizzed over to the hallway.

"It's about time," I called at him as he came into view….correct that, staggered into view.

"Belllllssss!" my brother leaned against the columned wall and smiled at me in a whispy, goofy grin, "Bella Belly. Belly Jelly. Jelly Belly! Ha! Yours cannty."

In my educated guess, Jacob had returned from dinner a dropdown drunk.

Fan-freakin-tastic.

Crossing my arms, I frowned as he continued to stagger towards me with most of his weight against the wall.

"Are you drunk?" I asked, already well aware of the answer from both his body language and the distinct scent of alcohol clouding up the air.

"Bwellllss," he started laughing and doubled forward, "You wouldn't beliewae howd much those…little dudes….could wrink! They're-They're like this little (he measured out with two fingers) and they drink soooo much. It's freaky!"

My brother, a full-grown werewolf, couldn't handle drinking with a bunch of Christmas midgets.

This would be held over his head for the rest of eternity.

Jacob continued to crackle over the ecstacy of intoxication to the point of tripping over his own feet. Watching him start the fast journey to kissing pavement, I rushed forward and caught the big lush around the torso with an "ooff."

"I really love you too, Jellsy Bellsy," he cooed the slur and wrapped his big, burly arms around my elbows.

"Oh shut up," I shot back and dragged us both down the hallway.

"Yuurrr mad," he mumbled into my hair.

I sighed back, "No, I'm not."

Yes, I am! Call me selfish all you want. The last hours I'd spent boxing and bottling up all the anxiety of the day were supposed to be uncorked with a night-long ventalation. Then my only friend (close friend that is) had to go and make a gussied-up, bumbling idiot of himself. Yes, Jacob worked hard over the years and deserved some down time…but boy did his timing suck. My instincts said Gandalf's offer wouldn't go away by morning and this situation needed some serious discuss and brainstorming.

Jacob belched into my shoulder.

Apparently I was on my own.

Ode to my joy.

Passing into the garden balcony, we made way to the archway into Jacob's room.

Somehow, through his drunken haze, Jacob realized where we were headed.

"Whyre wenre nod sleepin in your rooodm?"

"Because," I replied and heaved Jake's 200 plus pound muscle meat sack into his own room, "There's a fair chance you'll throw up some time tonight, and I'm not going to be present for that."

He grunted (no idea if it meant 'yes' or 'no'…don't care, I pay very good attention to sober-Jacob's opinion and zilch consideration to drunk-Jacob).

Once inside the bedchamber, I unceremoniously dropped Jake a few feet from his bed. Landing hard on the wooden floor, he groaned in pain (oh please, you're an immortal superbeing…idiotic cry baby) and curled into a ball of alcohol-smelling patheticness. Grabbing one of the pillows from his bed, I flung it at the moron and wished him a goodnight.

"Bella!" Jake moaned loudly, "I don't wanna slemp onna floor!"

Then don't come home drunk, idiot.

"Sorry, Jake," I replied, already showing him my back, "But that bed is way too nice for you to upchuck on. You're staying on the floor."

"Bella!"

Whipping around, I pointed a finger at him and ordered, "Stay on the floor, bucko!"

Then I stomped over to my own room. Sitting on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers, I positioned up against the decoratively carved headboard and stared at other end of the dark room. Crossing my arms, I decided to skip an unnecessary night of sleep.

Rest of the night was uneventful…outside of my brain. The only high point of it all was Jacob never got around to vomiting. He moaned and whimpered on the floor for about an hour then fell into the rhythmic breathing of sleep.

"Eepp!" and for a second time her hands went up to cover her blushing mouth.

No…Jacob and I or I and anybody weren't in an explicit position of any sort in my bed.

"Miss, you gave me a fright," my elvin maid maiden said with strained breath once my gaze focused on her, and she realized I wasn't dead.

Remember last night? Well, after dumping Jake off in his room I ended up seated on my bed, arms crossed, eyes fixed forward. Because of my vampy weirdness, staying in the exact same position and not moving for hours is cake. Your mind kind of lets go for a while in a day-dreaming state.

It's quite therapeutic.

Well, time got lost in my staring at nothingness, so before you knew it, the sun was up and a new day begun. That's when elf maiden (note to self: if we're still in Rivendell tomorrow, make a point to learn elf maiden's name) walked in and screeched much like the previous morning.

"You were sitting there completely still, miss," she explained as her clammering blush slowly ceased, "Like a statue. You were not breathing. I even called your name for a moment but nothing came of it. I thought you were dead, miss!"

"Sorry about that," I apologized to her, then climbed off the bed and muttered, "Would be a welcome vacation though."

"What did you say, miss?" elf maiden asked me.

"Nothing."

Nodding her head at my response yet looking very unsure, the elf maiden thankfully didn't probe any further. Instead, she turned around and motioned to someone out in the hallway. From behind her walked in two elves carrying trays of food and a pitcher of drink that they set on the table out on the balcony. After which they turned to me and bowed slightly forward and went forth out of my room without saying a word.

Good service here.

"Guessing that's breakfast," I motioned my head to the delicious, picterique food.

Really was a pity I hungered for none of it.

"That is correct, miss" the head of my room service replied. Checking around the room for a second, she then asked about Jacob's whereabouts.

"He slept on the floor in his room last night," I pointed my thumb backwards towards where I left were-boy's sad remains.

"Oh dear," again elf maiden brought a hand to her mouth and fixed into concerned mode, "Is he alright? Shall I call for a healer?"

Stepping in her path as she started towards my brother's room, I held up a hand and said, "Don't worry. He's fine. From what I gathered from his muttering of stupid, the hobbits got a hold of some alcohol and they decided to include Jacob in making a night of it."

At the drop of a hat, those mythical features went from concerned to apathetic. Shaking her head and giving off very unimpressed facial vibes, elf maiden said, "I understand complelty, miss. Do not take this disrespectfully, but would you care for me to give Master Black a 'rude awakening' of sorts?"

Wow. Got this chick totally misread. Apparently even elves suffer from the perils of overindulgence.

Smirking at the thought of Jacob suffering a worse hangover than he was already in store for by letting a pro-prohibition maid loose on him, I still held off the idea due to the acute possibility of Jacob's 'rude awakening' turning to an accediantly wolf-morphing. Elves may be immortal but I still wouldn't feel right putting one in a room with a hung-over, pissed off werewolf.

"As appealing as your offer sounds," I said, "Let's just let him sleep it off this time."

Regaining an at-ease stance, elf maiden offered, "There is a tea used among our kind to lessen the side effects of dehydration alcohol causes. Would you care for me to request some be brought up to make Master Black more comfortable?"

I snorted, "I said let him sleep it off, not coddle his idiotic lifestyle choices."

Sharing my smile, elf maiden nodded and turned to leave. She haulted suddenly and faced me again. "I almost forgot," she said, "Lord Aro wished me to inform you that he requests your presence immediantly in the sitting room."

And a good moment again went down the crapper thanks to resident vampiric management.

"Alrightly," I sighed, "I'll get right on that."

Not.

Bowing her head, elf maiden turned again and left the chamber.

Not in any big hurry to arrive at Aro's beck and call, I turned towards the bedroom's adjacent washroom. Stripping down to my skivvies, I finally took advantage of the full-length mirror hanging with its vine-like frame and admired my non-sparkly self.

No resemblence to a princess tiara to speak of. Booya!

Finally appeasing my backwards-vanity needs, I undid my twisty bun and stepped into the tub. A little squeak flew out when my toes touched the hot water.

No idea how that one worked (meaning heated indoor plumbing). Must have had something to do with the constant flow of water from the rock waterfall coming from outside and water then dispensing from the tub through a small crevice at the bottom.

Perhaps similar to the hot springs in Arkansas…What! Jacob and I vacationed at the bathhouses there years back when hot spring bathing came back into style. It was very relaxing and some of the best $600 I've forked over.

Anyway, so a scrub-a-dub-dubbing I went into the naturally heated elven bath. Along the side of the tub sat a large assortment of bottled lotions and soaps. Usually I'm not one who cared much what she smelt like as long as its not displeasing (perfume doesn't help when you're trying to remain undetected by enemies with supernatural smelling powers), but what girl in her right mind would turn down elven manufactured soaps bottled in finely crafted glass containers?

Once finished washing up, I stepped out of the tub smelling like a mixture of violet and odora. Toweling off, I wrapped my body with the white, fluffy soft cloth and went on a search for items to cover the nakedness. With fingers crossed for a selection other than the many gowns I found hanging in the armoire yesterday, delight came when my eye caught a finely folded stack of clothes on a wooden chest at the side of the washroom's doorway.

Elf maiden (really have to remember to ask her name) totally came through with uniform selection. For my non-feminine taste, she left a crimson, sleeveless shirt, grey, cotton long-sleeve to go over it, and cotton, black slacks.

She left underwear too, but that went without saying. Elves were not fans of the commando way…thank Eru.

Dawning my fresh apparel, I slipped on my slippers and put a comb through my brown, wet locks. Deciding to keep the hair down to air dry, I guesstimated I'd kept Aro waiting for about half-an-hour (the minimum amount of time to keep a well-despised leader waiting). As my ears caught on that Jacob was still snoring off his booze-fest, I exited to the shared sitting room centered between all the Volturi's given apartments.

"Aro?"

Elf maiden didn't seem like the type to lie or get confused about messages…yet no one was seated at any of the chair or couches in the sitting room. Everything was scerene and appeared untouched.

Maybe Aro got fed up with waiting and-

Middle of that thought ended as my right side got slammed into the wall. Immediantly I started to struggle to gather my bearings, but an iron grip wrapped around my neck and something pushed into my torso with the force of a cement truck. Both left me stuck against the wall, suspended off the ground. If I'd been human, the pressure would have easily punctured a lung and broken my tracia.

Sliding my eyelids open, I found myself nose to nose with a pair of simmering hot (not in an attractive way) angry red eyes topped with a mane of womanly long hair I'd reconigze any day of the week.

"Ar-cough-Arro?" I struggled out the word. Thoroughly thrown off guard by this attack.

Was this about yesterday's almost-brawl? I wasn't the one who called in a wizard and had him mind-bend Aro with magical trickery.

Maybe Aro finally dropped all his marbles.

"You foolish, stupid, headstrong girl," he seethed the words in a soft, feverishly hatful tone, "There is very little keeping me from ripping off your useless head."

"Wha-cough cough-What! Aro!"

Crazy vampire.

Help!

Much like I did to Felix yesterday, Aro pulled me forward and slammed me back against the wall with a yell of "Silence!" Poor wall. I felt it crack against the brunt of Aro's force.

"Do you have any idea what your actions have caused me?" he tightened the grip around my neck.

Really? Really? Was this about yesterday? Felix and I fought almost every single time we met up. Maybe this was about keeping face in front of the elves. Still though…I'd call what Aro's doing a bit of an over reaction.

"Let me-ya g-g-go," I tried to move my arms and then kicked Aro hard in the knee. All to no avail. My coven leader's age made him as ceceptable to harm as a nuclear bomb shelter.

Where the hell was Jacob! What good is a sidekick if he's never around.

"Aro! Release her!"

Pausing for a moment after Sulpicia's command, Aro reluctantly let go his death grip around my neck and removed his other arm. I fell to the ground and started coughing like a thirty-year long smoker.

Aro, dismissing the fact that he was a hair away from squeezing my head off my body, brought full attention to his wife and began yelling, "She has ruined our-"

"Bella has ruined nothing," Sulpicia insisted, "Leave us and go calm yourself."

Still rubbing my sour neck, this sudden change in power play got me paying attention to the two. Half my mind expected Aro to ring his hands around Sulpicia's neck next and chokehold her against the wall for daring to order him around. In adoring awe (never gonna admit to it), I watched Aro's own wife hold her directing gaze at him; refusing to budge an inch down.

Pregnant silence radiated from the pair.

With a hiss of disgust, Aro super-sped out of the room to Lord knew where.

Hopefully down an active volcano. Finger crossed.

Sighing for a moment, Sulpicia then rushed over and helped me stand.

"I am so sorry, Bella," she said with what sounded like genuine remorse as we settled on the couch.

My throat finally healed enough that I could speak clearly, so I asked the question ringing through my aching head since Aro pelted it against the wall.

"What the hell did I do wrong?"

Sighing again and glancing over her shoulder (making sure hubby-dearest didn't change his mind about the chokehold), Sulpicia looked back at me with that regretful, woeful stare she'd been wearing around the last four days. "Aro and I were told of your meeting with Gandalf the Grey Wizard last night," she revealed.

Instantly the pieces fit together. Aro knew I rejected Gandalf's offer to stop Middle Earth's problem and now blamed me for whatever problems that choice created.

Still…I labeled him a drama queen for his response.

"Oh," I replied, not knowing what to say that would help (chokehold or not, my answer stayed the same…this vampire wasn't leaving for a quest anytime soon), "Thanks for intervening."

"Yes," she said, the shadow of a pleased grin appeared on her lips, "I am afraid my mate did not appreciate that. He prefers I not display my siring rights in front of others…if at all."

Siring capabilities?

I knew what they were. Reader Digest version: Basically, if you create a vampire, you had the right to control them to a certain exstent. Simliar to a master/servant relationship with more of a family structure to it. Almost half the reason I avoided Volterra was to avoid Marcus' siring rights over my actions.

"Hold on…_you're _Aro's sire?" I asked her, shocked to the core. In all the years of knowing the Volturi, I never asked too many questions about their pasts. Including who all turned who into the undead.

Nodding her head to confirm my question, Sulpicia explained, "Anthenodora and I knew as the first vampires our responsibilities would be over the entirety of our species. Aro was my first creation. I held no desire to rule, and Aro was a dying prince in the court of a Finnish warlord. During my time in northern Europe, I admired Aro's charismatic nature and idealistic rule (so you just overlooked the blood-thirsty portions of his personality?...or did those come about later on?). Choosing him as a mate to rule our kind was more logical than trying to govern with only Anthenodora."

"So you and Anthenodora are the real founders of the Volturi and just handed everything off to Aro, Marcus, and Caius?" I asked; anger bubbling in my stomach began to overlay the shock. My entire past…Heck! Every vampire's past could have been rewritten had Sulpicia and Anthenodora choosen to take power for themselves. Sure there was no guarentee they'd be any good at it, but there was no way they'd be worse than the three currently seated on cushioned thrones.

"Neither of us were right to rule," the ancient vampire didn't dare make eye contact as she admitted to her sexist outlook over our gender, "The three lords have done so much with what we gave them. How can I regret changing my mate?"

Oh, I don't know. By seeing him for the self-involved, crazed tyrant that he was?

After hearing this, I could only stare at Sulpicia. This ancient being, who shared blood with two worlds, who lived millenias through kings, wars, and industrial revelations suddenly appeared so small and timid to me. The universe…God…Eru…whatever gave her the chance to establish an immortal race, to perhaps use it to open doors and exceed mankind in ethical value, to even teach man how to live in peace. What did she do with this opportunity? Gave to the first noble that caught her eye and didn't even moniter his actions with her naturally given rights as a sire.

Yeah, no need to elaborate on my dissapointment.

Still rubbing my neck a little for the sake of doing something, my mind remembered why my neck got hurt in the first place.

Oh yeah, Aro got pissed because I rejected Gandalf's offer.

"What's gonna happen with this fellowship quest thing?" I asked her, which she in turn seemed somewhat releaved for a change in subject.

"Bella," Sulpicia said, her eyes taking on a pleading gleam, "You must understand. One of the Volturi _must_ accompany their fellowship. We have no choice in this. It is the will of those wronged so long ago, and if we refuse…then…."

Let me guess, consequences too great for words. Just freakin superb.

"This isn't my problem," I repeated last night's logic, "_I_ wasn't there centuries ago. _I _didn't kill thousands let alone kill a higher being and piss off the other higher beings."

Then the hyperventilating returned. "Please, Bella!" she sobbed (wow, this chick was really becoming the poster child of bipolar depression), "Aro refused himself or I to accompany the fellowship and they trust no others of our kind."

For good reason!

"I know you cannot understand," she continued her tearless crying, "This place…this is my home. Losing it to an evil so dark would destroy me."

That cut through my breaking point.

"I lost my home!" my voice reached critical volumes of yelling, "What about my dad and mom! You think I don't miss them. I had no choice in loosing them, Sulpicia. Unlike you and Anthenodora, all I could do was lay there helplessly and watch _your _beloved husband destroy my family!"

"Please. Please," she begged softly to me, "You have a good heart, Bella. For that I have always valued you above all others of my husband's servants. Please do not leave me to watch this blessed land be destroyed yet again."

"But you're one of the first vampires!" I reasoned back, still wanting to refuse her and grasping at the hope there was a different way out of this, "If the requirement is someone of your bloodline, wouldn't any vampire work?"

"It must be one of close blood relation," she replied, "You are a third generation of my blood by Marcus, who I changed at Aro's behest, and within the coven of my house. They will not take an outsider and most vampires only carrying a few drops of our bloodline anymore. You are the only choice."

That, unfortuantly, all that made a lot a sense.

Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap!

"This sucks!" I shouted at my vampire grand-sire (this meant Aro was my vampiric uncle and Jane my vampiric cousin…that made for one messed up Thanksgiving) and crossed my arms with a huff.

This was really starting to look like the between space of a rock and a freakin hard spot.

We sat there, me with my crossed arms of aggression and Sulpicia with her sad eyes of remorse and regret, for several minutes. Neither of us wanting to speak aloud the awful truth.

It had to be me. No if's, and's, or but's about it.

Testingly placing a hand on the back of my turned away head, Sulpicia slowly stroked my drying hair as she said, "Do you remember the day Aro allowed you to leave Volterra with the Cullen's? Do you remember what I told you about creating a value for yourself in my mate's eyes? That if you made yourself an asset to him, he would grant you liberties?"

Silently and still not facing her, I nodded. The horrible reality of the whole situation eating away at my brain and nerves.

"This problem may seem disaturous and unfair," she continued then lowered her volume to a barely audible whisper, "But it is also a problem to which you have never been more valuable to our coven. To this you could use our desperation for your advantage."

"What?" I shifted around and faced her with confusion.

"Like the rest of us, my mate has no other way out of this expect through you," she said and the glint in her dark, red eyes turned a tad miscervious, "Anything you ask of him, he will not refuse you. For he is not your sire. Why not turn your handful of liberties into a doorway out of the Volturi's grasp forever?"

Out of the Volturi's grasp?

My brain played over Sulpicia's words. Before I could ask her to explain, the vamp lady lended me a small, sad smile and sped away.

So according to Sulpicia, Aro really needed me…badly…like a fish needed water. I was the Volturi's only hope at paying off a million year old debt. Putting all this into my usual equation of dealing with Aro, which was by giving a little I got a little in return, that meant Aro hands were tied when it came to giving me anything I wanted.

'Doorway out of the Volturi's grasp…forever,' I replayed her words in my head.

That's when a smirk growing quickly into a smile graced my lips.

Hopping off the couch, I mentally arranged what needed to be explained as my feet carried me back to Jacob and mine's apartments. Time to wake up the were-boy and tune him into today's big story.

* * *

Could I sweat, my palms would have been as slick as an eel.

Those suckers are slippery.

Approaching the library doorway at normal speed, I made brief eye contact with the elven guard standing outside at attention. My feet reluctantly took one step after another as I got closer and closer to the library…the library built for the private usage of one Lord Elrond.

Stopping a little in front of the entrance, I waited with hands clasped tightly behind my back as the guard gave me a once over. Not in a leering way but in a guarded-way.

Think I almost preferred leering. This guy didn't appear to give off many pro-vamp vibes.

He was silent for a moment, probably mistaking my intimidation as fear for him and hoping that would lead me to turn around and run back to my room. Unfortuantly for him, what made my nerves dance with anxiety was what layed behind the door.

"Do you have business with Lord Elrond, vampire?" he asked, clearing annoyed I remained in my spot and not scampered off.

"Yes, I requested an audience with him earlier and was told to come here."

His mouth opened to probably argue this but was prematurely interrupted when some elvish word was sounded from within the library. A word said in a voice sounding very elf-lordish.

Unlike what this guard thought, I actually had requested an audience with Lord Elrond. After finding Jacob gorging away at his late morning fill of food and water, I refused his request to talk after the hangover went away. Once we got things settled on my plan, I left my brother to his migraine and a bath and went to find our elf maiden in hopes she could send the message that I needed to speak with Lord Elrond and Aro. Perferably at the same time and the same location.

As luck would have it, one of the elf who came to pick up the dirty dishes from breakfast I recognized as one of those that brought the food. He told me elf maiden (who I now knew as Tinu, daughter of Tavinal) spent her early afternoons with her sisters, helping them garden – get this – by _singing _to the plants.

Sure enough, once I caught Tinu's scent from my fresh bed coverings, it led me to find her singing a lovely lullaby-type song in front of a bushel of planted greens. After apologizing for interrupting her afternoon gardening session, I told her what I needed and Tinu was more than happy to get the message to Elrond.

Which is how I found myself in front of his private library, watching an annoyed guard give a tight bow and then open the door for me to enter.

Apparently Lord Elrond felt comfortable with only one style of dress. Awaiting my arrival, I stepped inside the library (bigger than the one I found last night…had a second floor to it) and saw him wearing a robe and circlet similar to those from the first day we arrived in Rivendell.

He's probably the only guy I ever met who could own that look.

To my not-so-pleased surprise, Gandalf peered up from a book he's been reading in front of the fireplace and sent me a mysterious, pleased smile.

A big part of me said that he already knew why I'd asked for an audience with the elven lord.

Stupid higher beings and their mysterious ways.

Over at the table in the middle of the room, Aro sat with his hands rested on the chair arms. His glare at me once I arrived said that he hadn't forgotten or had a change of heart about our earlier encounter. Behind his chair, Sulpicia stood with a hand lightly laid on her mate's shoulder as if keeping him grounded in the chair. She too smiled at me. This one a bit more guenuine than mysterious yet still a little worried.

One elf lord. One wizard. Two vampire elders. And little ol' me.

Guess the gang's all here.

"Miss Bella," Lord Elrond approached me in a serious, stately tone that would totally call for sarcasm if this guy wasn't the picture of old fashion nobility, "You called for Lord Aro and mine audience-"

"I was simply curious," Gandalf put in; his eyes never losing their twinkle as they watched me stand under unwanted attention, "Lady Sulpicia and I insisted we join this meeting. I do hope there are no objections at our presence."

He was mentally laughing at me! Jerk.

"None at all," I falsely smiled back.

Corking a strict eyebrow at our intervening exchange, Elrond looked at each of us slightly confused and annoyed. "As I was saying," he continued with a tone daring anyone to interrupt again (Hey!..don't get torqued at me…blame the wizard…blame!), "You called us here for a purpose. What is it?"

Deep breathe, Bella. Deep breathe and say it.

"First, I would like to apoligize for my behavior last night, which I'm sure you are all aware of. There was a bit of overreacting involved," I started off, wanting to clear the air before we got to the meat of it.

Their faces remained the same. Elrond: serious and stolid. Aro: pissed (screw you!). Sulpicia: encouraging and worried. Gandalf: twinkling, befuddeling smile.

At their silence, my speech continued, "After some thought, I've decided, under certain conditions, to accept your offer to accompany this fellowship on their quest."

The expression on Sulpicia's face morphed from worried to grand relief.

Yeah. Yeah. I get to carry the burden meant for you and your mistakes. Yippy-freakin-skippy.

Just as I anticipated, Aro (knew it'd be him or Elrond) asked suspiciasly, "What conditions do you mean?"

Another deep breathe. Here comes the hard part.

"There's a few," I admitted, "For those pertaining to you (I guestered to Aro), first and foremost, the minute I begin this quest, my obligation to the Volturi ends. All bonds between us get severed. I no longer belong to any of you."

"No!" he leapt from the chair, causing Sulpicia to step back, "I forbid this! You are a Volturi forever or until I deem otherwise."

Don't back down, Bella. Hold strong! He needed you remember. Hold strong!

"Then deem otherwise," I replied, controlling my voice to remain calm and calculated, "Because I'm the only one here who you all think is qualified to journey anywhere with humans or otherwise. Earlier, you (big glare at Aro) made it pretty clear that you agreed with that (yeah…you freaked out supremely at the mere thought of me backing out). This is probably also the most dangerous task I've ever been asked to partake in, so I expect an equal reward, per usual to our arrangment. And what I want is out of the Volturi…for good. Otherwise, you can deal with the consequences of refusing the Ainur (Booya!...remembered the word!)."

That, ladies and gents, is called closing a deal.

Hissing out "stupid, girl"-

Or not.

-Aro started towards me with bloodlust written all over his face and a stride that screamed "Fight!"

At this show of aggression, Gandalf began to rise from his seat, and, to my shock, Elrond placed himself in the way of Aro's path towards me.

"Aro!" Sulpicia shouted at her mate, "Maintain your composure."

At the command of his sire, Aro instantaneously stopped walking. None of the anger fell from his face though.

"You cannot leave our coven!" he yelled.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous and embaressing. Did he even remember who else was in the room with us?

Time for the gloves to come off.

"I can and I will!" I yelled back, sidestepping Elrond's blockade, "Those are my terms if you want my help. Take it or leave it."

To be honest with myself, this bout of bravery towards my coven's leader really had to do with the presence of Elrond and Gandalf. As long as I didn't get left alone with Aro, bet the ranch I was safe from any harm a pissed off vamp could inflict.

Slowly, the realization of his sticky situation must have dawned on Aro, for his frown was drooping lower and lower in malice. Then, as if someone flipped the switch, his mouth curved upward and his red eyes gleamed with delight.

"I am afraid it is beyond my power to carry out your request of severing your ties to us," he said slowly, in a tone underlined with guile.

Crap. What was he up to now?

Aro then said, "As you well know, my dear Bella, only a sire can release his or her creation from the eternal bond of their relationship, so until Marcus agrees to this, you are still considered one of us and all that it intails."

Fudge on crackers.

Those of us in the library who didn't vital organs anymore (this is me guessing that wizards don't need organs) knew well enough that there was nothing on heaven, earth, or hell that could convince Marcus to release my ties to him as his creation.

As the world fell into dimmer and dimmer light from my perspective, true death never seemed more welcoming.

"I wonder, Lord Aro," from behind my slumped shoulders, Gandalf addressed the a-hole with womanly hair, "If your mate could possibly intervene on Lord Marcus' rights as sire to Miss Bella? Seeing as how she is Lord Marcus' own sire."

Flipping my head up to face Sulpicia, I saw her think for a moment on the wizard's question. My stomach did a flip when she started to smile.

"Yes, Master Gandalf," she answered before Aro could vent out another fit, "I do believe as Marcus' sire I can act on his behalf and release Bella of her bond to him."

A big part of me wanted to rush over to the old dude and high five his wrinkled hand. Bearded people rocked!

"Sulpicia-" Aro tried, but with one glare from Sulpicia (way to find your feet in this lopsided marriage!) he quieted and resembled a very angry four year old put in timeout.

"Bella Swann," the high lady of the Volturi coven walked a few feet forward and addressed me with a soft smile, "On behalf of Marcus of the Volturi coven, I, Sulpicia of the Volturi and sire of Marcus, hereby strip you of your sire's bond. From this day forward, you belong to none of the Volturi clan."

Yay!

Pause.

Didn't feel any different (that part was kinda anticlimactic) but **Yay!** never the less.

"Seeing as that your business with Miss Bella is through," Elrond stepped in from behind, "Would you both please excuse us, my lord and lady?"

Never taking his glare off me, Aro bowed slightly forward and then sped out of the room in full-vamp speed (way to be mature about it, buddy). On the other hand, Sulpicia beemed one last smile at me, cursited graciously, and left the library in no rush.

Watching her leave, a part of me was still angry at that portion of Sulpicia's character that was okay with handing off all responsibility to people like Aro and I. This entire problem was pratically her fault and she had to deal with almost none of it. Still, out of the all the Volturi, I knew she's the one I'd end up missing at times.

Besides, in my opinion, spending eternity as Aro's mate deemed as punishment enough.

"My," Gandalf's voice shook me from my thoughts, "What an interesting coven you found yourself in, Miss Bella."

I snorted, "Tell me about it."

Corking another eyebrow at my snort, Elrond asked, "Earlier you mentions conditions, were there others meant to be addressed to me as well?"

Nodding, I paced back a little bit and replied, "Yeah. First thing is that Jacob comes along with us."

Non-negotiable.

* * *

_AN: Wow! Long chapter. I honestly think it's my longest yet. Thank you so much for all the reviews I've been receiving. I promise you this is the last chapter centered around the Volturi and Bella's screwed up relationship. Now that she's free of them, it's time to get to know the Fellowship! Excited! Then review please!_


	8. Don't hate me cause I'm immortal

_Disclaimer: On Tolkien's side are elves and hobbits and wizard. On Meyer's end are vampires and…that's it. Enjoy the whole._

_**This chapter is dedicated to my sister and brother-in-law, who just told me they would be expecting my first niece/nephew in April of 2011. Love you both and pray that God blesses you with a loving, healthy family.**_

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* * *

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Chapter 7: Sidebar with Goldy-gorgeous…then back to our regular programming

_Glorfindel's POV_

By the might of the Valar, the day in which these damned vampires took their leave could not come soon enough.

Despite the ungraciousness of his behavior, Legolas was correct in saying a shadow hung over Imladris due to them and their obvious lack of…anything concerning compassion.

Then there was the constant annoyance with each new day that Lord Aro continued his search to learn about the weapon of the Dark Lord we kept hidden.

My Lord Elrond showed blessed wisdom when deciding not to reveal the Ring of Power to the vampires except to whom it was decided would accompany the Fellowship.

Bella Swann. The fairest among Eru's betrayers.

From our meeting, the All High subtly set her apart from most of her companions. Her and the shape-shifter she called brother, Jacob Black. An intriguing pair indeed.

I will admit that my curiosity took hold of Bella when her unique traits became known. In truth, that pale skin and ghostly beauty set her in with the rest of their kind, but the differences could not be ignored.

When I arrived to escort the Volturi clan, my heart ached in anguish toward each one as I looked into their cold, red eyes and smelled the metallic sent of human blood shelled over the group like a cage of heavy perfume. Death traveled near as a welcome companion with these beings. My disgust halted, though, when I noticed at the very end stood two beings that did not reek of human carnage.

Her amber eyes, quick and guarded, connected with mine for merely a moment then turned away. I recognized her body language as belonging to that of an embarrassed young girl. It amused and surprised me. As for Bella's smell, traces of metallic floated about her air but trickled into nature so easily it gave off no offending odor.

I have never questioned her diet specifically, but it would not surprise me if Bella never tasted the blood of man.

What further amused was her obvious preference towards the shape-shifter over the rest of her company. Once again, their body language of keeping a fair amount of space apart from the rest led to concluding that the pair considered themselves as outsiders.

Then Bella blurted out her question about Rivendell's proper name. To that I could not hold back a smile, and then her reaction carried on the entertainment. Unlike the stiff manners and high noses held by Lord Aro and his coven, demanding the attention and fear of all who looked upon them, Bella and Jacob seemed to despise attention.

Yesterday then we talked after that infuriating display by those two vampires Lord Aro seemed to favor as his trusted agents. I witnessed her fascinating skills in battle. In fluid, thought-out motions, a warrior sculpted as a small, young woman overpowered one twice her size and possibly her superior in strength. All the while, her eyes shifted from the offender to where Jacob, in wolf form, was holding off the young child-vampire who almost harmed the Ring-Bearer (no doubt keeping mindful of her brother's welfare).

A foolish action punishable by death on the demon child's part.

Jane, I believe her name was. Easily my least favorite of the vampires. Such an angelic face masking the evil within. Very disturbing. Bella told me her name then followed it with a number of opinions on Jane's character with the use of some colorful language.

Normally I adhered to foul language, but to this I gave leave.

Everyone in Rivendell, Bella and Jacob as well, felt great relief when the Volturi coven took their leave yesterday. The night after Lord Elrond informed his counsel of Bella's decision to include the shape-shifter and herself in the Fellowship.

Eru, that I would I travel with them. Such an honor to destroy the greatest evil of this age…not even Frodo understood the gravity of his burden. Soon he would. Soon all Middle Earth may understand the might of evil when focused on a people.

Highest Father, grant us mercy to never see that day.

Once Lord Aro, Lady Sulpicia and their band of demons left House of Lord Elrond, his lordship held a supper in unspoken celebration of being rid of the guests. Upon insistence from Elrohir, Elladan, and myself, Bella gave in and attended.

Sadly, she would not budge on the subject of wearing a proper gown to the feast.

Tinu, an elf-maiden connected faintly to noble blood and (I discovered) Bella's chambermaid, did succeed in the task of dressing her unwilling mistress in a fine, deep blue dress tunic with slacks then braiding and pinning up her hair a little for the occasion.

Unlike what Elladan would have many believe, I do _**not**_ fixate on hair. Bella's style that night was duly noted because of the usual absence of any formality with her appearance.

For the most part, the evening proved a joyful occasion.

Lord Elrond and _Mithrandir_ (the grey wizard) took their seats at the head of the feasting table and talked quietly between themselves as great powers do with one another. Aragorn and the sons of Elrond discussed some border patrol incident with orcs that occurred that morning, close to the Ford crossing through the Bruinen. While it was agreed the orcs most likely tarried too far from their quarry, the ordeal still upset the guards in fear that Mordor forces were closer to Imladris than expected.

Unlike most evenings, seated beside her beloved, Arwen Undomiel took the free chair next to Bella. There was no hiding the fact that the vampire felt uncomfortable seated among so many during a meal, and the kind hearted elfin lady set to distract Bella from her anxiety.

Although I knew Bella was pleased (or, as she said, "freakin-estatic!") at the departure of the Volturi, her posture at supper was still cool and abrasive. Out of social politeness, she did eat a few pieces of food served and answered when spoken to.

Once everyone was seated, Elladan felt need to call out, with a hand over his heart, "My fair Bella! You look absolutely heavenly this night. As if the Valar themselves had forgotten they left another of their perfect kind behind in Imladris."

Elrohir, _Estel_ and I shared an eye roll. Yet it did amuse when Bella ducked her head down in embarrassment and muttered a small "thank you."

I wonder if she realized no blush ever touches her cheeks?

"In fact-" the fool Elladan started again.

"_That is quite enough, son_," Lord Elrond chastised his second-born in our native tongue, "_I believe you have achieved the goal of embarrassing our guest and making a fool of yourself in spite of it_."

Elladan had the fortitude to look ashamed. Elrohir smirked happily at his brother, which earned an elbow hit. _Estel _and I shared another eye roll.

Those two shall never act their age.

Despite Elladan's jolly welcome, Bella maintained a guarded and quiet stance throughout the evening. She spoke to Arwen when asked a question and wasn't unkind in conversation. Even Jacob and the hobbits, whom all bonded with the shifter surprisingly well since their initial introductions, tried to include the vampire in their loud conversations.

Years in battle with many warriors educated me in what Bella's body language eluded. Silently, she watched the activity and environment around her, assessing it all and storing it away as a safeguard. She was on edge, as if waiting for an attack. Also, from listening to her conversation with Arwen, Bella made a point not to give too much away about herself. She seemed comfortable enough with Milord's daughter, but still deviated the topics discussed from questions that demanded details about her personal past.

Yes, like a good warrior in foreign lands, Bella safeguarded her most valuable possession. Her own person.

After the first course, as custom, Elrond stood and called for everyone's attention. He introduced Bella and Jacob to the group and informed them that many present that evening would be traveling as part of the Fellowship.

Although the next morning was the official announcement that Bella and Jacob would be joining the chosen nine travelers as their tenth and eleventh, I knew His Lordship underhandedly planned this feast as Bella's informal meeting of her fellow travelers.

As Lord Elrond said, most everyone of the Fellowship was present…save for a certain Mirkwood elf.

An empty chair sat with Prince Legolas' kinsmen who accompanied him to Imladris and that did not go unnoticed by anyone.

Later that evening, I would make a point of speaking with His Highness on visitor etiquette. If Legolas had an interfering problem with Bella accompanying the Fellowship, I would have no qualms in taking his place as the representative of the elves. Perhaps the shame of my exchange with him would knock a bit of sense in that…what was the word Bella used?...airhead.

When the table heard of Jacob and Bella joining, the hobbits responded first with shouts of joy and congratulations to both.

"It will be grand to have such a skilled fighter as you along, Bella," the youngest hobbit named Peregrin Took said. Earning an elbow from his cousin, Meriadoc, but a real smile from Bella.

A lovely smile, I might add. She must do that more often. It is a sight quite pleasant to behold.

Then Elrond told of whom consisted of the Fellowship. With each name came a greeting. Gandalf merely nodded and gave the otherworldly pair a twinkling wink to which Bella slightly frowned.

Do not blame her at that. A wink from an Istar could mean many a thing, not all of which was necessarily good.

_Estel_'s face remained neutral as he informed them that training would begin tomorrow. At this, Elrohir muttered a comment in elfish about Aragorn having to train the girl who saved him from the clutches of evil. That got a "Quiet!" from his adoptive-brother. Subtly though, I did see the ranger's eyes shift to the head of the table. No doubt, later on, questions would arise on the wisdom of allowing a vampire, let alone, a female vampire along on this quest.

I knew, unlike Legolas, _Estel _would not jump to prejudiced conclusions with Bella. Once he saw the benefits of her and Jacob's addition, as Lord Elrond did, that would be enough.

Again, the hobbits gave a rambunctious bout of approval when their names were voiced as travelers. At this Jacob connected his fist with Master Frodo's in what must have been a gesture of friendship in his world.

For the dwarf community, Gimli son of Gloin of the Durin Folk volunteered himself as a companion to the Ring-Bearer. When it came time for his introduction, the dwarf stopped poking his fork at his food and merely glanced over at Bella.

"Ye and that wolf always fight as well as ye did against those demon children?" he asked gruffly.

Slightly startled to finally be asked a question, Bella simply shrugged (a habit of hers I have found) and replied, "Yeah."

"Good," and Gimli went back to glaring at the dish, "Then ye both got my vote. Better ye than another prancy elf princeling."

This achieved a glare from myself and all other elves at the table, but Jacob and Bella both shared smalls, humorous smiles at our expense.

Perhaps Legolas traveling to Mordor with this dwarf would be enough to end his stupidity. Either that or the two would surely kill one another before journey's end.

After quickly mentioning that Legolas was a member of the Fellowship (Bella and Jacob mirrored in their shared frowns…Gimli mumbled a Dwarfish curse under his breath which I choose to not acknowledge), Lord Elrond made mention of the ninth traveler.

Boromir, heir of the Steward of Gondor. As uneasy as his passionate display during the Council of Elrond made me, I was hopeful Bella may suffer the human better than others. This was a man raised in the world of men. A world she once belonged to.

The young captain exceeded my expectations by not showing any signs of intimidation or fear, despite his knowing of what a vampire tends to feed upon for survival.

"Where do you and your brother call home, Mistress Swann?" Boromir asked after lightly kissing her hand in greeting (for some odd reason, Elladan started making kissing sounds...earned another elbow jab from Elrohir and a sigh from His Lordship).

"We were born in a place called Forks," she replied; brushing the back of her hand against her slacks underneath the table, "Currently, I live on some land in Iceland I own."

Vague answers. Little detail. Posture still stiff and guarded. I was starting to loss hope of Bella ever being at ease with our people.

"Is there fair hunting in Iceland?"

With this question, out of all present, Boromir broke through the barrier. Soon Bella, Jacob, the sons of Elrond, Boromir, Aragorn, myself, and even the dwarf, somewhat, were ankles deep in the subject of tracking and hunting different prey.

It was a subject we all knew well and considered no time wasted in elaborating on.

The rest of the evening faired out much better than it began. Indulging in the conversations more, Bella got away with not touching any more food to put up the façade of normal diet practices. Then, with the feast over, we adjourned to the Hall of Fire.

Abandoning her brother to the hobbits and their jugs of berry wine, Bella walked toward me with to sit. Though not before twisting her head around and warning Jacob, "One glass, Were-boy, or I'll sick Tinu on you tomorrow morning."

Taking the free space on the cushioned bench next to me, she leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. As if just finishing up a trying task.

"Your brother does not handle his wine well?" I asked.

"Usually he can hold his own," she replied; opening her eyes and looking back at me, "Those midgets must have their own stash of free liquor though somewhere around here."

Aw, she must have witnessed the after effects of a couple nights ago when Jacob first joined the evening meal. If recollection served, Frodo and Sam retired after a full jug of wine, but the cousin hobbits got hold of four more jugs and generously partook of it with the shape-shifter.

We were silent with one another as one of Lord Elrond's chief advisors started strumming a song with his lyre. Soft notes rose into the air and completed the mood of the evening as it slipped into twilight.

"What will you and Jacob do now that you have ended allegiance with the Volturi?"

A passing minute went by as she appeared to think on my question. "Probably what I've always done," she replied quietly; neither of us wishing to disturb the atmosphere, "Just…without including Aro or his other butt monkeys."

Butt monkeys? Must be a curse of some sort in her world.

"We'll – at least, I'll – spend more time with my other family…the Cullen's," Bella continued, "They came over to Middle Earth too."

"Yes," I nodded and then began searching around my pockets for my pipe and tobacco, "We got word of their arrival in Lothlorien."

"Did they leave already?"

Shaking my head and finally feeling my fingers touch the smooth wood of my pipe, I pulled it out along with the small satchel of tobacco weed and answered, "Not all of them. We sent messengers to announce your decision to join the Fellowship, and they sent back that the Volturi leader who arrived there and his coven members did leave. But at the request of the other vampires, this Cullen family you know, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel allowed them to remain until the quest is fulfilled. They are beast drinkers like yourself?"

"Yeah," Bella replied with enthusiasm; obviously the thought of her family remaining in Middle Earth was a comfort.

By this time, the elf ended his tune and Lord Elrond asked for the next entertainment.

"Why does not the fair Bella sing us a tune of her native land?" Elladan spoke up.

Immediately, my friend's eyes grew twice in size and her mouth clamped shut. Upon watching Elladan form an evil smirk, she changed that shocked expression to one of an antagonized huntress. Gleaming, slated amber eyes that darkened, and a grimace on her lips to boot.

"I. Don't. Sing," Bella practically growled and crossed her arms tightly, daring His Lordship's son to dare suggest it again.

"Perhaps we should start calling her 'the fierce Bella'," Elrohir leaned over the whispered to his brother.

"Yes, brother," Elladan matched his brother's farce of a private conversation, "I dare say she could champion _Ada _in a contest of scariest glare."

This only made Bella's eyes flash in deeper warning. Lord Elrond also did not appear too impressed with the fruit of his harvest.

"If Bella permits it," Lady Arwen, empathically watching her brothers torture the girl, again came to the vampire's rescue, "I shall sing in her place."

Comically, Bella's head started bopping up and down determinedly in clear approval. "Please! Please! Yes!" she half-begged.

Due to the unplanned honor and rarity of hearing the Evenstar sing, no one protested the suggestion, nor spoke again as we all sat there bewitched by the song I knew was created by the singer's own mother, the fair Lady Celebrian.

Before she left for the Western Shores, Lord Elrond's wife sang to him and Imladris of her pain and sorrow of leaving. We all felt the absence of the former Lady of Rivendell, so hearing her daughter sing those sad words again put into place the meaning of these times.

I did not fear death. For it is not something to be feared. I have experienced the afterlife once and welcome it again should Eru will it.

What I fear is the unknown. Like _Mithrandir_, I did not wish to abandon Middle Earth to a fate of tyranny and evil mastered over by the Dark Lord Sauron. War and death and hardship whispered in the air. Even during our feasting and merrymaking, it called to us. As storm clouds rolling slowly forward towards all that is good and just, we could only prepare and hope to stand through the hardest rains.

But how long shall the rain last? And do those of us who have a choice to leave remain and perhaps perish with the rest of the righteous?

In these thoughts and unanswered questions, my gaze shifted to where the Ring-Bearer sat. Like the rest, his attention fixed on Lady Arwen's beauty and majestic show with a face of awe.

Such a light shines in that young lad. A light that, Eru willing, out-lasts the shadow and darkness of the One Ring.

_One Ring to rule them all. And in the Darkness, bind them._

How long and how much suffering would it take before the very light in he that carries the One Ring became bound in the darkness?

Eru only knows.

* * *

_Bella's POV_

It's. A. Freakin. Ring.

A ring, people!

What got wizards, elf lords, and basically all of Middle Earth's finest and brightest in tizzy and bonkers with stress?

A freakin ring.

Not even a cool, jeweled-up, dark looking ring. At least, not the only outside. The thing wasn't any bigger or more elaborate than a small, wedding band.

On the morning after the meet-and-greet feast (and Arwen's Tony worthy performance!…no idea what she was singing about but I would have cried had I the tears), I got called again into Elrond's library with instructions to bring along Jacob. He, along with Gandalf the Weird, Aragorn and Frodo, were already there and all acting very serious. It all became clear when Elrond said they were gonna unveil our enemy's secret weapon that they had kept hidden from the Dark Lord, since our membership as part of the quest-club made us privy to this information.

Can't say I hadn't been the tinniest bit curious about this weapon.

Jacob (who was able to sneak an extra cup of wine but was still pretty sober) and I shared our theories once we got back to our rooms after the feast.

Magical sword?

Magical orb?

Magical fire breathing, flying, razor sharp teethed monster?

Magical mirror?

An atomic bomb that fell through a wormhole in the space-time continuum and the Dark Lord got a hold of it (this theory belonged to Jacob and I responded with a well intentioned slap upside his head…moron).

Magical…pretty much the only viable guess we agreed upon was that the weapon was somehow magical.

A magical ring, though, definitely didn't come up in our list of guesses.

When Frodo held out his tiny hand and opened it to reveal the gold band of jewelry, Jacob and I kinda stared at it for a while without saying anything. Silently wondering if what we saw was actually there. Then I looked back at Elrond and Gandalf confused.

A big part of me expected one of them to shout "Kidding!" and pull out the Dark Lord's real weapon.

"It's…It's a ring," Jacob spoke up, sounding as confused as I felt.

"_This _is the One Ring of the Dark Lord Sauron," Elrond told us, his seriousness tuned a little on the angry side since we weren't all gob smacked at the weapon, "Forged to conquer all the free peoples of Middle Earth-"

As he continued in a brief summary of Evil Rings of Power 101, I couldn't help the small bubbling of laughter at the pit of my stomach. Either it was anti-climatic-ness or irony or both that got to me, but the enemy's ace in a hole actually being a small ring was actually humorous.

I mean…Come on!...this is a freakin ring that people are afraid of.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Jacob's hands strictly held behind his back. Two of his fingers were pinching the soft skin of his lower arm hard, and his face was a statue of nothing. I knew my brother found the situation as funny as I did.

"-and Bilbo left the ring to young Master Frodo, who then came to Rivendell to find haven from the Wraths."

Darn it! Another lapse in attention and now I'd lost possible vital information from Elrond's speech.

Taking a chance that the answer of my question hadn't been in his speech, I asked Elrond, "So where is this Fellowship going to in order to…destroy this…ring?"

If he said anything relating to a magical jewelry store of evil, I would have officially lost it.

I honestly think Jacob had stopped breathing since he saw the ring in attempt not to breaking down laughing.

"The ring must be cast down in the fires of Mount Doom in the land of Mordor," the ever-serious elf lord replied, "The ring was forged there by Lord Sauron. It is the only place it can be destroyed."

Okay. Wasn't expecting that either. Apparently finding the bad guy and ripping his throat out was too simple for this world. They just had to get tricked-out rings and volcanic mountains involved.

Meanwhile, Gandalf had been staring critiquingly at us the whole time Elrond spoke. By some Jedi-wizard mind trick, he knew we weren't the best listeners and not taking this all that seriously. "Allow me to demonstrate," the grey bearded one stepped forward, "The ring, Frodo." He held out his hand and the hobbit dropped the ring into it. My ears caught the drumming of Frodo's small heart speed up quite a bit once the ring left his possession.

"Miss Swann, would you please reach out and take the ring?" Gandalf requested of me.

My eyebrows shot up, and Elrond and Frodo started to protest, but with a hand of silence from the wizard they quieted.

"Take the ring, Bella," he commanded again.

Quickly the humor leaked out and I cautiously extended my arm, not quite knowing what would happen but trusting that Gandalf wasn't as crazy as my mind embellished.

Before my hand got within a half foot of the ring, an overwhelming feeling of empowerment branch throughout my body. My mind suddenly felt clouded and focused completely on the ring.

'_Isabella Swann. Daughter of the damned. Betrayed by her beloved_.'

Freakin freaky!

Swiftly the voice carried its whispers through my mind. With it, my temper rose to anger and fear, as if I was experiencing the day of Charlie's death all over again. Then all I knew was that it would go away, the fear and the pain, if I got the ring.

'_Take the ring, Isabella. Rip out the wizard's throat. Watch his blood spill. Take the ring_!'

My hand inched closer and closer.

I needed the ring. Nothing else mattered.

**Snap!**

Gandalf closed his hand and snatched back his arm. As he enclosed the ring away, I almost leaped forward to steal it back…ready to kill whoever got in my way. As soon as it was gone from my sight, though, all those emotions of fear and anger and longing drained out of me. Leaving me feeling confused and very uncomfortable with what just happened.

"You now understand," Gandalf said, handing the ring back to Frodo, who appeared way too happy to have that freakish thing anywhere near him, "The Ring is evil. It is one with Sauron, its master, and shares the same will. Though it may call to others, the One Ring only wishes to return to the Dark Lord and reestablish his power and control. It must be destroyed."

I hadn't felt so empty and at a loss of what to do or say in a while. The same way one would feel after learning the statistics of women raped per year, or when a middle school holds an assembly on bullying and shows clips from the Columbine shooting. In a weird way, some lessons could only get learned by shocking or shaming the student into fully understanding the consequences of failure.

I didn't feel like laughing so much when Jacob and I left the library, and from his sullen silence, I took it my brother felt the same.

* * *

The rest of our time in Rivendell, before the quest began, got spent basically training with the rest of the Fellowship. As our warrior-leader, Aragorn wanted to make sure Jacob and I wouldn't be holding the rest of them back…slightly offended at first when he voiced this concern, but then remembered that I still appeared as a thin, non-muscular young woman.

Their minds changed after I single-handedly whipped Aragorn and Boromir butts when they double-teamed me. I got designated to fighting-advisor and helper to the rest. Which I preferred, since it gave me the chance to get to know the rest of the guys I'd be spending an unforeseen future amount of time with.

Gandalf and Aragorn, our fearless commanders, spent most of their time talking strategy and pouring over maps. Usually Aragorn did come out to the training arena a few hours every day. He either dueled with the twins and His Royal Rudeness or helped Frodo get the swing of using a small sword the hobbit had been given by his uncle Bilbo.

Met Uncle Bilbo at another group dinner Jacob dragged me to. H reminded me of a garden gnome (Bilbo, not my brother…although at the pace he'd been eating, I wouldn't be surprised if Jake started to balloon-up like one). Similar to the other four hobbits, Bilbo found me fascinating and managed to distract me from my itch to sneak out of the dining hall by bombarding me with questions all evening.

As for the hobbits during training, Jacob and Boromir kind of took them under their wings and worked hard to train Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin on the basics of hand-on-hand combat.

Must mention that I was enjoying Boromir's company more than expected. Upon meeting the Gondorian warrior, I counted on a reaction of disgust and immediate mistrust. Which always bothered me a lot from people since, you know, I use to belong to the species of human. Instead, and since then, Boromir had acted like a complete gentleman towards me. He got a little pissed when I knocked him on his backside that one time we dueled. Yet whenever I had free time and Jacob's busy and I wasn't in the mood for the twins and Goldy-gorgeous' elfin-ness…basically when I need some quieter normalcy, I found Boromir reading a book or shining his armor or writing to his father, and we sat around and chatted.

It felt really…human to do.

From our talks, I discovered Boromir really didn't want to come to Rivendell in the first place. His father, the Steward of Gondor (the land's ruler in the way that a vice president would rule if Congress never got around to initiating a new president…I once asked him why Gondor didn't have a king…Boromir got quiet and then stared oddly at Aragorn the rest of the day…men are weird)…Anyway, Boromir's dad got word about Elrond's super secret meeting about a super secret weapon and wanted his son to go. Boromir had just gotten done with a huge battle and wanted to stay home, even his younger brother (Faramir…no, I'm not making this name up…their parents really named them Boromir and Faramir) offered to go instead.

I could tell, by the way he spoke, this guy really missed his family and home. The captain asked a few questions about my home. I told him that my parents died and that my father was a cop (explained what that meant with words like 'officer' and 'peace'), to which Boromir said that he wasn't surprised.

"I have met a few shield-maidens such as you," he said, "They all bear one thing in common. They are born to strong men who dedicate their lives for the sake of others."

My ribs did that constricted thing again when he said this.

All in all, I felt okay around Boromir because he was the sort of man my father would respect.

That was always a subconscious judgment call with me.

Gimli, the dwarf I first met at the feast, never went out of his way to spend time with me. He was too busy conducting a passionate love affair that axe he was always wielding or sharpening or stroking.

From the few times we spoke (more like I happened upon him then became victim of his venting), I discovered that dwarves and elves really, **Really** didn't care for one another. Their relationship's foundation revolved around each species pointedly staying out of the other's business.

As if they're living in a surreal world where the other doesn't exist…until a chance comes along for one to justify locking up the other in a dungeon.

Allow me to elaborate with an anecdote.

Apparently Legolas' high-strung father (huh…apple doesn't fall far from the tree) caught some of Gimli's kin (olden word that meant family) venturing through Mirkwood and unjustly locked them up in his dungeon. As Gimli's version went, the dwarves fought against all odds to escape King Thranduil's hold and almost succeeded in overthrowing the whole of the Mirkwood realm.

Of course, Gimli was angrily cursing throughout telling me all this so I wasn't so sure how many facts went into the details verses tainted perspective.

(Note to self: Ask Frodo's uncle later on about it…pretty sure I heard Bilbo's name mentioned in the tirade of words…wonder what he was doing with a bunch of dwarves in Mirkwood?...I thought hobbits hated adventures?)

The anti-social, hold-a-grudge behavior Gimli armored over himself never bothered me all that much. Sure, he's make for a sucky choice when needing advice or getting emotional over…well anything, but he was a warrior through and through. A serious, intelligent, dedicated fighter who excelled in his craft.

Always good to have one of those along on a mythical quest.

As for the final member of our quarry…the blond one with a disposition against all things undead...apparently he needed to train as well and Aragorn thought it would be a swell idea if Prince Legolas played target practice with me.

Guess which one of us got to be the target?

Thankfully, as a target, my entire initiative revolved around avoiding the prince, so after a few hours of dashing around the trees as he tried to hit me with an arrow, I just returned to my room. Never even coming face to face with the elf.

* * *

A couple weeks before the Fellowship left for Mount Doom, I got out of my bed that morning and felt a familiar, sharp tug in my stomach and throat. Checking my face in the mirror, fears got confirmed when the reflection showed darkened amber eyes and the beginnings of purpled bruises under them.

I hadn't eaten since coming to Middle Earth. Putting it off, since I didn't know how I would react to the wildlife here.

With the signs of black coal tint in the irises and bruising, I knew only a day or two was left before my hunger became a problem.

A knock at the door startled my distracted thought process. A pretty head of dark hair appeared in my doorway with a smiling face attached to it.

"Good morrow, fierce yet still wonderfully fair Bella," Elladan greeted, "I came at my brother's wish to inform you that we would be included in you and Legolas' training session today."

Creasing my forehead, I asked him why.

"Apparently," he stepped into my room, "You have been too much of a challenge for our resident Sindarin prince alone. Aragorn suggested, because Legolas will be allied throughout this quest, that your exercise should include more persons on the offender's part."

"Oh my gosh," I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes, "Did he actually go and whine at Aragorn about me?"

Elladan smirked, "Perhaps. He is not very fond of you, you know."

"The feeling's getting to be mutual," I half-muttered back then asked in a clearer tone, "Is it just you and Elrohir or is Glorfindel helping out too?"

His attractive mouth (yikes!...that led to a bad thought) grew wider in smirk.

"Unfortunately no," Elladan replied, "_Goldy-gorgeous_ volunteered to take a patrol on one of our borders where orcs have become a slight problem (found out orcs are Middle Earth baddies that resemble goblins and work for Lord Sauron…who is dead but apparently can still pull off having minions). Although I believe _Goldy-gorgeous _would take any excuse to avoid lending aid to Legolas."

Rolling my eyes again at Elladan's new obsession with calling Glorfindel my invented nickname (yes, I felt slightly guilty about it…till I saw Glorfindel turn pink with rage at being called it in front of everyone over dinner…he's funny when he's mad with murderous tendencies), I understood what the twin monster meant.

Ever since Legolas' rude behavior toward me after the Volturi debacle, Goldy-gorgeous' made of point of avoiding the prince at all costs. Not hiding the fact that he's kind of pissed at Legolas' behavior, which only became worse when Legolas joined us for dinner one night and Goldy-gorgeous started hinting at how no one was above reproach and social manner.

Legolas pointedly acted oblivious at what Glorfindel was talking about and ignored me throughout the entire meal.

According to the twins (who also disprove of Legolas' hatred toward me but can't get as outwardly mad about it as Glorfindel, since they're the sons of our host and their father is a close friend and ally of Legolas' father), the prince and Goldy-gorgeous had a huge fight (verbal not physical) after the meal ended where my friend gave the prince a fine verbal spanking and His Royal Retard-ness called Glorfindel a betrayer of their faith and race for befriending me.

Needless to say, the two aren't on speaking terms anymore till we leave for Mordor.

"Alright," I said to Elladan, "I'll be in the eastern part of the forest, near the arena, as soon as I go hunt something to eat…You said there're deer in this forest, right?"

Bugging out his radiant brown eyes, the elf stared at me with an expression of shock, awe, and glee…he ignored my question too. "Do you mean…actually hunt a beast? As a vampire would hunt?" he asked, practically whispering in wonder.

"Yeah," I shrugged, "Being a vampire who needs to eat, that's sorta what I'm gotta do."

"May I come and witness you hunt?"

"No!" I yelled back. No way was an elf, let alone anyone else, coming and watching me getting bloodied up while I sunk my teeth in some animal's jugular. Not even Jacob was allowed to watch me hunt. It was a very private affair I still held slight embarrassment for.

Would you want someone to watch you take a crap or change a tampon?

Didn't think so.

He started begging and pleading me about the subject, but I stood my ground and ended up having to jump off my balcony to avoid throwing Elladan across the room…he was blocking the doorway as blackmail to get his way (thousands of years old and no more mature than a third grader…how does Elrond and Arwen stand this?).

Whipping and whizzing at top speed through the forest near Imladris, I kept an ear out for surrounding wildlife and any elfin scouts that might have been leaping about the trees. Ten minutes into the hunt, my nose caught sent of a large male deer about one hundred yards away.

Slowing speed, I quickly got visual of the buck and almost stopped at the sight of its size. This thing was easily over four hundred pounds, ten points in antlers, and larger than any buck I'd seen back home. Breathing in deeply, my skin practically hummed at the smell of the pounds of blood thumping through its veins and my venom started to salivate.

Holding back a hungry growl, I lowered my approached and dipped into a spot of tall grass. As I waited for the opportune moment, my future meal only rose his head once at a possible sound but bowed again to eat some weeds. Bounding without a sound, through the air, I made it undetected behind the tree trunk next to the buck.

'Three. Two. One," I counted down in my head.

At zero, I jumped from the tree and came down directly over my prey. Pinning it to the ground, one hand circled his mouth's trunk to stifle any cry. With my mouth open wide, I extracted my fangs, sank them deep into the buck's carotid artery, and drank it dry.

My ears heard its heartbeat grow slower and slower until it stopped beating all together. It took my almost twenty minutes to drink all the blood from that buck. Half due to the fact that I wanted to savor the taste. Like all things related to nature that I'd seen thus far in Middle Earth, the taste of this animal's blood exceeded in quality compared to other past meals brought to me by the Cervidae family (names for species of deer for all those who slept during environmental studies).

Licking my lips of any remaining droplets of blood, I checked for the hunger tug from before and happily found it disappeared.

I hadn't felt this full since my trip with Emmett to the south and we rounded up a pair of polar bears (who got checked off the endangerment list some decades after my turning).

Newly replenished, I started back to the settlement and headed over to the training arena. By this time, I knew Jacob would have finished breakfast and his morning wolf-run. To no surprise, I found my brother holding a sword and facing off a deeply concentrating Sam while Boromir took on Merry and Pippin, and Aragorn was instructing Frodo on how to protect his lower half with a long knife.

"Morning," I called to them with an honest smile across my face. My body was so content with its meal, my nose hardly twitched at the close proximity of two humans.

Seeing as they were all in fight-mood, only my brother bobbed his head in greeting. I didn't take it personally, we had only two more weeks to turn four, undereducated (fight-wise…most folks in this world read so much during their free time they'd make my world seen mentally challenged) hobbits into decent fighters.

"Morning, Bells," Jacob called back and flashed me a smile then faced his tiny opponent again, "How's the menu around here?"

He meant my meal. Jacob probably smelled the buck blood still fresh on my skin and running through my digestive system.

"Better than expected," I answered back, maintaining our cryptic word usage so the others might not guess what exactly we were discussing, "There shouldn't be a problem when we get going."

"Good."

"Should you not be heading over to train with Legolas?" Aragorn asked in a I-know-you're-avoiding-him-on-purpose way, "I suggested Elrohir and Elladan train with you both today."

Boromir raised his eyebrows at the ranger then muttered to himself, "Less likely she will kill the elf with witnesses present, I suppose."

I shot a glare his way, which he only grin back at me innocently.

Fake, lying human…as if everyone here didn't already know about super-vamp hearing skills.

With a pointedly expectant look, Aragorn kept staring at me to get my butt in gear and go play nice with the princely prick.

"Fine, I'm gone," I sighed and whizzed away to the eastern side of the bordering forest.

Didn't get far enough way without overhearing-

"Who do you think would win in a fight, Merry? Bella or Legolas?"

"Pip!" then the sound of Merry beaning his cousin upside the head.

Pause.

"Bella."

"Depends on the fight. Prince Legolas would fair better at archery-"

Once I speeded over into the thick of the forest, I stopped and listened intently for signs of the twins or Legolas.

_Whizz._

Bouncing hard on my feet, I sailed high into the air as an arrow flew right through where I'd been standing. Latching onto a branch, I leapt across a few trees to avoid whoever let go his arrow.

"You missed!" Elladan yelled from below me.

"Yes, brother," Elrohir shouted back, not sounding at all happy, "I can clearly see that! Now quiet before you give away our position to all of Imladris."

I heard them dash away in different directions and stood still for a moment to take in my bearings.

_Whizz. Whizz._

In an instant, I twirled my body around and circled to the opposite side of the tree. Two arrows imbedded themselves into the tree I was standing on.

Peeking around my cover, I saw a bright pair of angry sea blue eyes coming off a certain prince who was up in the trees as well and looking none too happy at missing his shot.

Cocking his bow at the sight of my head, I quickly dropped from my branch and literally hit the ground running.

"_Rhachon le_!" Legolas yelled nastily after me.

"I don't speak elfish, jackwad!" I shouted back in mid-run.

For the next half-hour, I dodge and ducked arrow after arrow from the three. Because of the extra competition, their combined prowl-ness and disgustingly well-played teamwork caught me in several more near misses than usual.

Nearing the end of our session, I started creeping along the ground level toward home base. Out of nowhere, Elladan started flicking arrows at me from above. Avoiding the rain of hits got me heading in a direction away from the settlement. I caught on to the plan too late when I ended up in forest clearing and Elrohir jumped out at me with sword drawn. Bending backwards to avoid his swing, I flipped back and crouched down to miss the next swing. Springing to my feet, I threw myself into a flip, sailing over Elrohir and landed with his back at my face. Before he could twist around and take me on a second round of swish-swish-buckle-buckle, I slid both of my arms under his, twisted them into a gridlock, and then lift the twin off the ground.

"Sorry, buddy," I said into Elrohir's ear and then threw the elf several yards away into a ravine clear of any trees (didn't want to bruise precious cargo during practice).

Unnecessarily stretching my arm muscles, I took a step forward to head back to the settlement. Hopefully tossing Elrohir on his tookus was enough of a victory to call it a day. Not that any of us was getting any closer to old age, but we had been at it for at least an hour. Aragorn probably wanted everyone present for lunch to announce his and Gandalf's newest strategy of sneaking around Middle Earth toward the volcano mountain of doomed jewelry making.

According to yesterday's lunch meeting, along with a deceased and kicking Dark Lord, there was some wizard-gone-bad strutting around looking to bring down our little Fellowship.

I cracked a joke about Frodo's luck at not having a lightening shaped scar on his forehead…nobody laughed (I glared at Jacob for acting as clueless as the rest…way to give into peer pressure, you wuse!).

Certain things made me a little homesick…pop culture references was one of them.

Due to my mind zoning out once again, I almost missed Legolas elfish-ly materializing in front of me and brandishing a small dagger.

Training session still on.

Moving at vamp sped, I dug my left heel into the dirt and pushed my body back as blondy swiped at the air a couple of times at an adequately impressive speed.

Had I not possessed supernatural foot abilities, that dagger would've cut a nice X shape across my chest.

Sneering in outrage at my superior dodging technique, Legolas raised the weapon again to repeat his attack.

Tired of this exercise and ready to go back to my room and maybe hang with Goldy-gorgeous or Jacob and the hobbits (or mention elfish princes to a certain dwarf and sit around for another tirade of insults toward Mirkwood royalty…at this point, I'd join in the bashing fun), I quickly grabbed Legolas' arm and twisted his weight to flip over me and land hard on his backside. Prying the dagger from his hand, I threw it aside and stepped away from the fuming elf.

Never ceasing his glare, Legolas leapt to his feet and seemed about to insult or curse or spit on me. Too bad the twins entered the clearing. Elladan looking enormously pleased with a cheshire cat grin, and Elrohir stomped forward pathetically like someone had popped his pride bubble and ran away laughing.

Sigh. These guys needed to learn fast how to loose to a girl if they wanted to continue to play with me.

"Well done, Bella," Elladan said, padding his brother on the back, "You truly are a superior breed of warrior. An asset to this quest to be sure."

"Thanks," I shrugged and grinned at my friend, but really only thinking about how soon I could get away from the still-enraged Legolas. This guy's vibes were clogging up any good feeling I might have enjoyed from handing these three their butts on a platter.

Backing out of the clearing, I said, primarily to the twins, "I'm heading back to the apartments. See if Glorfindel is back from his patrolling."

"We shall see you at dinner tonight then," Elrohir, bouncing back considerably from his pride-pop, waved at me.

Waving, I ignored Legolas and turned around to speed back across the forest's edge.

_Whiz._

_Crack!_

"Hisss!" I bent over from the sudden, unexpected pain in my right shoulder and grabbed at the sore area.

"Legolas!" both twins yelled in unison.

When the first wave of pain subsided, I opened my eyes to the ground behind me. There, lying bent out of shape, was an arrow that apparently collided with my shoulder. Still rubbing my aching muscle, I knew before seeing it that the weapon in no way had even penetrated my skin.

Two points for being undead.

Focusing back on the clearing, I saw the twins rushing over to their friend…their friend who was holding an empty bow and staring at me with pure shock written all over his sickingly-pretty face.

Guess the bastard didn't believe it when I said vampire skin may look undernourished and pale but could hold its own against most any weapon.

Armor-like epidermis or not, insulting me was one thing. Trying to honestly harm me (with my back turned no less!) was a whole different box of animal crackers.

Racing at top speed, I stopped nose-to-nose with Legolas and growled at him.

"Bella," Elrohir warned, tentivly placing a hand on my arm. Elladan was already doing the same for Legolas. Both clearly squirming inwardly at the thought of this turning into a full-out brawl

I stared straight into the blue pools of eyes of that pointy-eared SOB and seethed, "You are a real piece of work. Hell, I'd say that stunt you just pulled landed you lower on the slimball list than Felix."

Not to be outdone by little 'ol me, Legolas flashed his eyes and replied, "There is no place for you on this sacred quest, vampire-"

"I have a name!" my shout interrupted his predictable argument on how my entire species should have been damned in hell forever, "Use it or shut the hell up and not speak to me!"

By now, despite the twin's buffering, we were close enough I could taste the jerkoff's breathe.

"You will betray us," Legolas whispered at me, his eyes told well enough that he fully believed what he said, "You shall betray us to the enemy and Middle Earth shall perish."

"Legolas," Elladan said to his friend in a mix of calming and scolding, then he said something in elfish and tried failingly to pull Legolas back.

"You know, I just love your logic," I laughed humorlessly, "You base that _entire _assumption on prejudice and legends. Why would I betray a Fellowship I didn't even volunteer for in the first place? You think I want to be here with you? I'd much rather be doing anything with my time other than going a freakin quest! Almighty! I hope your dad never croaks because you would _suck_ as a king."

The prince's flawless and fair skin was starting to pink as angry blood rushed to his cheeks.

Good.

"Bella," Elrohir tugged at my arm and warned helplessly again.

"On second thought," I crossed my arms and opened my bitter mouth for more, "From what I've heard about how your dad treats people with differences, I'm sure you're the apple of his freakin eye."

Pink turned to rose.

Thank goddess Elladan was grasping Legolas' arm, because my last comment about daddy dearest made the fuming elf push himself at me as he spewed out elfish gibberish so fast I was sure not even the twins understood half of what he said.

Must have been colorful, since Elladan's mouth dropped with shock at the prince.

"That is enough!" Elrohir finally placed himself completely between us and blocked the warpath.

Because of our shared esteem for Elrond's sons, Legolas shut his mouth and mirrored me as I stepped back from my offender.

"You are both warriors of Eru's shield!" Elrohir scolded us, disappointment at our behavior shining in his eyes.

When Legolas opened his mouth to probably argue that point, Elladan knocked him hard in the shoulder and added, "She is as much as you are, son of Thranduil."

"I ask that you not become bosom friends (really?...'bosom friend?'…that sounded dirtier than necessary)," Elrohir spoke, "But I **command** you treat each other as comrades. With respect and honor."

"The Fellowship shall not survive if there is animosity within itself," Elladan followed in his brother's speech.

"Either you both shake hands now and end this war of wills," Elrohir's tone turned threatening, "Or we go to our father and demand he annul of your positions in this quest."

He meant get us kicked off the Fellowship. Which, if it didn't mean having to crawl back to the Volturi (vomit) with my tail between my legs, wouldn't have been the worst consequence imaginable.

Unfortunately, my deal with Aro and Sulpicia stipulated that I would actually travel with the Fellowship…as a full-fledged member. Not to mention, whatever hatred I felt for Mirkwood elves amounted to nothing compared to the eternal loathing I'd always carry for the Volturi.

Glancing up at Legolas, I saw the same conflicted frown on his face. Getting booted off the Fellowship meant he'd return to his father and kingdom disgraced, something that probably didn't sit well with princes who loved their land enough to volunteer for suicide missions.

We shared a look of halfhearted understanding, both knowing the other could not afford to not go with the Fellowship.

Extending his hand, Legolas said to me with forced regret, "I apologize, _Bella_, for hitting you with an arrow while your back was turned. It was dishonorable and a shame to my house. From this day until we part, you shall not hear an utterance of hatred from my lips toward you."

Matching his tone, I took the elf's hand a squeezed a faction of my true strength (honestly juggled with the idea of breaking it…but that would only feed into his theory of me wishing harm toward the Fellowship), "I'm sorry for making that crack about your dad…I'm sure he's a very able and fair king to your people."

We shook once and dropped hands like they were hot potatoes.

Crossing my arms and staring down at my feet, Legolas started fidgeting with his damned bow while we waited to know what to do next.

"Very well," Elrohir voiced his approval of the scene.

"Now you both can focus on hating and destroying the enemy," Elladan said with replenished enthusiasm.

I shrugged. Not really in the mood to share in the crazy twin's joyful perspective.

"Are we dismissed, _mellon_?" Legolas sarcastically begged permission.

"Yes."

_Wosh_!

Before Elrohir's answered ended, I sped away from the drama as fast as my feet would carry me.

Ending the rush at the door of our apartments, I walked through and found Jacob sitting at the balcony with the hobbits, Boromir, and Gimli.

People. Joy.

"Hey," my brother said when he saw me, "How was the training sess-"

"Fan-freakin-tastic!" I vented shortly and stomped over to my room.

For the third time since my arrival in Arda, I flopped myself on my bed and crawled into comforter-haven.

Concerned and confused voices carried through my room's balcony entrance.

"Must be that bleedin elf princeling," Gimli correctly surmised.

The rest sighed in agreement.

"The next few months shall be long indeed, friends," Boromir said.

You have no idea, buddy.

* * *

_AN: There! Legolas and Bella speak for the first time! Hope you enjoyed. I had a little trouble writing Glorfindel's part. It was really important I get his thoughts in though early in the story since that's where he's a primary character. Next chapter: Leaving Rivendell! And some Arwen/Aragorn drama! REVEW!_

_IMPORTANT NOTE: Because university is starting this week, I won't be updating as much. Only expect a chapter or two every few months. I'm not abandoning this story, but I do need to focus on school. Thanks for understanding. Good luck to all who are headed back to school._


	9. Alcohol and leather boots are in season

_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer gave the world Twilight. Tolkien gave the world Lord of the Rings. I give you nothing!...except this story.

* * *

_

Chapter 8: We're off to see Mount Doom. The wonderful Mount Doom of Mordor. We hear it is a Doom of a Doom if ever a Doom there was (crappy line, I know)…We're off to see Mount Doom. The wonderful Mount Doom of Mordor!

They never tell you in Campfire Girls what to pack for a quest that would decide the fate of an entire people.

In a roundabout way, I'd been asking the others what they're bringing along. The hobbits took care of any culinary needs (my gosh, what a shocker) and packed Sam's poor pony full of apples, meat, cheese, pots, and pans. As for the rest, the more adventure-experienced of the group, they took only the barest of bare essentials.

Basically that means a cloak, flask of water, small pouch of wafers (not actually wafers…Middle Earth version of wafers), and as many weapons as possible without falling over.

I clearly underestimated Gimli's passion for his axe. One morning, when I decided just to walk around on my own, I found the dwarf fully armed, running in a large circle, carrying his axe. Obviously preparing for the months of jogging ahead with his prized weapon as dead weight.

Not wanting to embarrass my comrade, I left his area quickly. Jacob looked at me funny when I walked up to him giggling my head off and refusing to explain what made me laugh.

Something told me Gimli (or any other dwarf for that matter) wouldn't appreciate becoming the joke of a fellowship of warriors.

Because I had no need for food or drink, my problems with quest luggage occurred when I was trying to balance the amount of extra clothes and miscellaneous supplies to carry.

"How about this blouse?" Tinu held up a pretty, evergreen long sleeve she pulled from the armoire, quite like the one she forced on me the night of the introduction feast.

"Hmm," I frowned a little at her selection, "No. I don't really need to bring any nice stuff along. It's not like we'll be dining with a king anytime soon."

"You never know what the future may bring," Arwen mused as she went on analyzing the supplies laid out on my bed.

"You sound like your father," I snorted. Totally true. Once in a while, Elrond's offspring wigged me out a bit by pulling out phrasing that made it no question who passed on half their 46 chromosomes.

"I shall take that as a complement."

Why, you ask, were my elfin room-service maid and the Lady of Rivendell in my room. Well, my decision skills when it came to packing clothing for a trip were notoriously bad. Weapons and medical supplies I rocked at. As for what to wear, especially in an alien world, my self-reliant pride took a hike knowing that I needed help in that department. So instead of dealing with whiny, ultimately unhelpful males, I called in the forces of the only two females I knew in Imladris. Tinu was spiked-punch-pleased to help out with clothing selection, and Arwen actually knew her way around quest supplies.

I was starting to consider this whole angelic elfin princess act as merely the outer layer to a much tougher interior.

I mean, this was the twin's baby sister we're talking about. Children of immortal nobility or not, there probably existed whole centuries of rowdy sibling fights and pranks between the three. From what Jake's told me, him being younger to two older sisters, baby siblings are almost always the victims to the older ones' wrath.

"Which supply belt would you prefer?"

I looked up from deciding between my slippers and elfin hiking boots and saw Tinu's two choices.

"Choose the darker one," Arwen suggested, "We can take out the water pouch and sew in a place to hold healing herbs."

"Dark one," I pointed in agreement.

Nodding her head, Tinu set down the selection with the rest on the comforter and added, "It shall hold a few more weapons than the other."

"What weapons do you plan on bringing?" Arwen questioned me as she held up a thin, curved dagger and gazed over it with studious interest.

Yeah, this chick definitely felt comfortable around pointy objects.

Shrugging, I replied, "Not much. Two daggers and a small sword. I really don't need them. It's only for insurance."

"Those boots have secret compartments for a long dagger in each," Tinu gestured to the footwear, "Two more weapons may prove helpful."

Holding up one of the boots, my mind critiqued the durability of its leather and make. "I might end up running at full speed though," I voiced my concern.

"Elfin boots are very reliable on both grass and rock," Arwen assured me, "Even at the highest level of usage."

Shrugging, I tossed the boots on the bed with the rest of it.

"Speaking on the subject of weaponry, did you ever get around to learning the art of the bow?"

My head snapped over to Arwen and I saw the small, teasing glint in her eye. No doubt she meant had I gotten around to being able to stand Legolas' company without wishing him bodily harm.

"No one offered to teach me," I responded tightly and went back to pretending to take stock of what might have been missing from my mental quest-needs check list.

"You could have asked Prince Legolas," Tinu, innocently ignorant of the recent vamp-elf drama, commented.

"Oh yeah…that would've been a possibility if he wasn't such a bigot-minded blowhard," I snapped back with word vomit.

"Bella," Arwen gently reprimanded me.

Glancing at Tinu, I instantly regretted my response when I saw her blush with embarrassment and avoid eye contact.

"Sorry, Tinu," I said sincerely, "Sometimes my word vomit gets ahead of me."

"Tis alright, Miss Bella," she finally looked up and gave me a small grin, "I know of the Line of the Sindar. The stubbornness in their blood only runs deeper within those insolated by the Woodland Realm."

"Tinu's cousin, Lalwen, is married to one of Legolas' younger brothers," Arwen said to me with a pointed look that hinted I might have crossed an invisible line.

Aw, hell. Now _I _felt like a blowhard.

"I'm really, really sorry, Tinu," I started to apologize again as my stomach began to ache with guilt. Despite all my gripping and freaking her out in the past weeks, Tinu had stuck around and been a top-notch help and friend to my bipolar tendencies and me.

"Tis _fine_, miss," she insisted back, "I am no stranger to my cousin's in-law's faults. Half of Lalwen's wedding feast twas spent with His Majesty, King Thranduil, boasting about elven superiority over the dwarven folk."

Corking an eyebrow I suggested knowingly, "Alcohol was involved, wasn't it."

"Oh Valar, yes," Tinu rolled her eyes at the memory while folding my extra pair of travel slacks, "Before the end of the night, servants were sent in search of wine barrels and His Majesty had guests reenacting old battles."

"That reminds me of my grandmother and grandfather's wedding memorial celebration," Arwen responded, "My brothers thought it good sport to taint the head table's drink. _Ada_ went around offering up his foresight like a roadside talent and ended up getting into a fight with one of Grandfather's guards who he had foreseen offending him the next day. Then Grandmother started acting…_close_ with Grandfather in the middle of the dancing floor." She closed her eyes and held her head at the memories of family embarrassment.

Half of me was laughing while the other shocked at Arwen's family's behavior. The thought of Elrond in a drunken stupor was almost too funny to believe.

"Your brothers did the same trick at the winter solstice feast two years ago, milady!" Tinu reminded the noble lady with a silly grin.

The rest of the packing session deemed pretty useless to the upcoming quest, since it was spent with the three of us exchanging family drinking stories.

I made sure to tell about Rosalie and Emmett's tenth vow renewal reception. So much champagne and open bar went around that night, Emmett, Jasper, and (honest blog) _Carlisle_ karaoked ABBA songs as a trio. Jacob bet Garrett (Denali clan veggie vamp and mate of Kate - another Denali veggie) that he could wolf-out after thirty shots of tequila…my brother ended up butt naked (still human form) in the middle of the crowd. As he rushed out of the dance hall, Jacob accidentally slammed into Rosalie and threw up all over her (and I quote) "$300 Badgley Mischka bridal shoes!" which she had "specially designed!" to go with her gown.

Emmett laughed so hard he dropped his microphone and fell off the band stage.

Alice captured it all on film…when I asked how much of the night she foresaw, my friend just shrugged and grinned like a spiky haired trickster pixy…she then pulled out an exact replica pair of shoes to replace the soiled ones.

Probably saved Jacob from the deadly wrath of Rosalie-Bridezilla.

* * *

December 24th. Christmas Eve to those who celebrate it. The night before the Fellowship would leave Rivendell.

That night would also go down in history as a drinking debacle.

Since we planned to leave at the crack of dawn, Elrond planned our final farewell feast to occur a tad earlier than usual.

No objections from the hobbits or Jacob.

Again, I sat between my brother and Goldy-gorgeous and began my ritual of poking each course repeatedly with my fork. When Arwen entered, I expected her to sit in her usual spot between one of her brothers and Aragorn. Instead, she almost ran past our section of the table and stole the chair left of Elrond's head seat. To make matters weirder, she refused to look up at anyone (I even waved a little to get her attention) and focused solely on eating her meal and responding to whatever Elrond said with short, precise answers.

"Okay, what is up with Arwen?" I whispered to Glorfindel.

The twins, sitting kitty corner to my left across the table, both looked up. Not bothering to pretend they didn't hear my question. For a brief second, Elladan and Elrohir's eyes uncomfortably shifted to my right, where Aragorn sat talking with Boromir and Legolas. They frowned a little and Elladan whispered something in elfish, which earned an elbow from Elrohir. Then both returned to acting normal as if my conversation with Goldy-gorgeous was actually private.

This didn't take a genius to figure it out.

The boyfriend screwed up.

Clearing his throat, my blond friend also stared a moment at the ranger (whose own behavior was fine and dandy…gaah, men!) then said back softly, "According to certain persons, _Estel _insisted on Lady Arwen journeying to Valinor with her elfin kin. When the fair lady refused this request, he…ended their…commitment to one another."

He…Aragorn, he-who-doesn't-speak, Mr. Mysterious and Serious, ranger than refuses to cut his hair (not that long hair is out of place in Middle Earth)…broke up with the freakin Evenstar of Rivendell?

That guy seriously just got bumped up on my list of world-renowned-idiots.

No wonder Arwen looked as happy as a drowned cat. She just got dumped and now had to watch her one true love go throw a piece of jewelry in a freakin volcano called Mount Doom. All of which would risk his life dearly, since orcs and other baddies would be nipping at our heels the whole way.

Poor immortal princess. Really sucked to be her.

Closing my mouth after the shock passed, I turned back to Arwen and found her staring pitifully at the only male to probably ever contemplate rejecting her love. Catching my eye, she tried to smile in greeting. I saved her the trouble and mouthed 'sorry' back and nudged my shoulder toward the moron stupid enough to end things with a lady like Arwen. She nodded and we shared a look of empathy only owned by those who've experienced real heartache.

Our silent girl-bonding got cut short, when Goldy-gorgeous stood and raised his wine glass high.

"To you fair hearts about to partake in this journey," he said to all seated, "On behalf of the lost peoples of Gondolin, we wish each of you honor and safe passage through the savage lands of Mordor. To honor and safe passage!"

"To honor and safe passage!" everyone, expect the hobbits, Jacob, and myself (we don't toast before battles all that much), repeated zeal-fully and took hefty swallows from their goblets.

Jacob and I kinda lifted our own goblets in toast, out of practice in this tradition, and took sips of our own drinks. Not use to alcohol, my lips puckered as I swallowed the tiny bit of berry wine.

As I was about to put my glass back on the table, Elrohir rose and gave his own toast. This time wishing us well on behalf of the House of Elrond.

Again, everyone repeated the last words and swallowed more wine.

Another tiny sip on my part.

Not to be outdone by 'pointy ears', Gimli stood from his chair (his height while standing still wasn't taller than most of us sitting) and barked out a well wish from his father's house and all dwarven-kind. Although lacking in enthusiasm from the elves, again everyone toasted and drank.

By this time, Jacob went pro with the ritual and was gulping down as much as Aragorn and Boromir.

I kept to my tiny sips.

Then we toasted Gandalf's leadership.

Sip.

Then we toasted Frodo's part as the Ringbearer.

Sip.

A toast for safety and prosperity for the world of men.

Sip.

Toast for an end to Sauron and Saruman (not sure…guessing that's the name of the evil wizard since so far we're only up against two super-baddies).

Sip.

Toast to Bilbo.

Sip.

Toast to Sam's 'Ol Gaffer.

Don't ask. I had no idea what the heck a 'Gaffer' was.

Sip.

Toast that our blades would skewer many orcs.

(Paused and shared small grimaces with the hobbits as we visualized skewer.)

Sip.

When refills came around, I waved off the elf and just placed my lips on the goblet for the rest of the evening.

Twenty or so toasts later, most everyone else (excluding myself, Gandalf, Arwen – she excused herself to bed after Elladan's toast to my fierceness and Jacob's ability to morph – and Elrond) was on their fifth glass of wine and the toasts were getting a tad silly.

"And to-wa…me axe!" Gimli wobbled while he stood and placed a free hand on the table to keep steady, "May it…heads roll!"

"To the axe!"

They were all so drunk, I wasn't even bothering to pretend to sip anymore. Just content sitting with my arms crossed and rolling my eyes as the idiot-fest played out.

"To the Shire!" a very excited and pink-faced Pippin yelled out a toast I'd heard twice already that night.

"To the Shire!"

The only reason I hadn't split this scene yet, like Arwen, was concern on how Jacob would safely return to our rooms.

"To-"

"Perhaps we should retire for the night before the House of Elrond's drink runs dry," Gandalf's suggestion boomed through the noisy drunkards, cutting off Elladan from raising drink again (probably to toast the awesomeness of torso length hair).

Eager to get my brother to bed in hopes he'd clock-in at least seven hours of sleep before dawn, I bided them all goodnight and pulled Jacob out of his seat. Carrying the great shlump all the way to our rooms, I dropped him off at the same spot on the floor as that time before. To avoid catching crap the next day, I wrapped him up in a blanket and made sure his head was cushioned underneath. Jake was snoring like a blow horn before I went to grab the extra comforter for him out of the bed-end chest.

With that handled, I was left alone with mind and nerves on the fritz.

You try going to sleep only hours away from starting off on a journey to places and fates unknown! I'd bet money – real money! – Jacob would've been just as pent up and sleepless as me had he not gone and chugged down two full bottles of Rivendell's finest.

Stupid drunk werewolf.

To pass the short hours till dawn, I double checked my supplies, then made sure the room was neat and clean, then triple checked supplies, then took a spare rag and basin of hot water and scrubbed down the washroom floor and tub (which really didn't need it since I rarely bathed due to no sweat pores)…then checked the supplies for a forth time. Checked on Jacob to make sure he hadn't gone and drowned in his own vomit (nope, still snoring away)….and checked supplies one final time.

As soon as I smelled the coming horizon (actually, what a vampire smells is the effect the sunlight or approaching sunlight has on his/her surrounding environment…for those taking notes on things like this), I stripped off my dinner clothes, took a quick wash in the newly polished tub, and dressed in the traveling outfit Tinu, Arwen, and I agreed would be durable and flexible enough to withstand basically anything imaginable (and some of the unimaginable).

Just as I was lacing up my trousers, Tinu burst into the room with wide eyes and shouting, "Awake! The dawn is upon us and you must prepare."

Looking at me for a second, she finally got focused on my already dressed self.

"Awake," I shrugged and grabbed at my belt.

"What of Master Black?" she asked, already striding toward his room.

"Oh, he's not…wait, Tinu!" I moved to stop her warpath, but got distracted when two very nervous looking elves came through with platters and jugs for breakfast. After setting them down, they dashed out before Tinu noticed.

Clearly the elf maiden didn't due well in stressful situations.

"Awake!" I heard her cry followed by the sound of some sort of hitting.

"Ow!" Jacob cried.

"Don't phase!" I shouted at him from across the wall and continued going about loading my belt with weapons then lacing up my boots.

As I finished up dressing, Tinu yelled at Jacob to get up and eat and bathe. At one point she stormed back into my room and badgered me to eat something, to which I reminded her I didn't eat normal food. She scowled and went back to victimizing my brother.

"Get out of here!" Jacob yelled followed by the sound of splashing water.

"Finish bathing quickly!" Tinu responded then slammed his washroom door.

I wondered how the rest of the Fellowship's morning was going.

At this point, I took pity on Jake and his need to get ready in privacy so asked Tinu if she could do something with my hair so it wouldn't get in the way. Happy with an actual task, my friend sat me down in a chair and braided my hair then wrapped it up in a secure bun so only my short bangs were left hanging.

"There is food on the balcony," she called to Jacob while still situating my hair.

"I know," a full-mouthed, very annoyed Jacob muffled back.

When my hair was finished, Tinu helped me into my black duster and cloak. As she handed me the final two long daggers that would go in my boots, the elf let out a sob and suddenly started weeping.

Shocked, I stared at the crying lady for a moment then got further caught off guard when she threw her arms around me in a hug.

"Oh, Miss Bella," she sobbed into my shoulder (bending a little since she was about three inches taller), "I shall miss you so much!"

Padding her lightly on the back, I twisted my head around a little and gave Jacob a 'help me' look. Instead, my brother gazed at the display slightly frightened. Shrugging back at me, he quickly ducked out of sight back to his room.

Freakin coward.

"It's okay, Tinu," I tried to calm her, "We'll see each other again."

"You have been such a fine mistress," she said with hiccup, "I shall pray to Eru each morning and night for your safe return."

Hearing that someone (without fangs or phasing abilities) would actually miss me and worry about me during this quest, a warm fuzzy feeling blossomed in the pit of my stomach. I smiled into Tinu's shoulder and hugged her a little tighter.

"We'll be back before you know it," I whispered to my friend.

Getting a hold on her nerves, Tinu finally let go and wiped away the tears in her eyes. Bending behind me, she grabbed the small satchel I packed to carry extra food for Jacob and a blanket and supplies for myself. With a sad smile, she handed it to me and nodded resigningly.

"_Belain na le,_" she said and let go the satchel.

Since I guessed that meant some sort of goodbye, I smiled back and replied, "It was great meeting you, Tinu."

We hugged again briefly then she left to say goodbye to Jacob.

If that fuzzy feeling hadn't begun to sour a little in pain, I'd gone and spied on how uncomfortable a crying elf girl made my brother.

After leaving our rooms for good, Jacob and I made way to the courtyard entrance of Rivendell.

With the whole sun over the horizon, we ended up as the final ones to arrive to the farewell party. Sam was busy tying this and that to his pony. Frodo was looking around slightly terrified and keeping close to Gandalf. Merry and Pippin were leaning on one another to keep from falling over from yawning. Gimli was twisting his axe around for a last minute check. Boromir was pulling on bits of his armor to make sure everything was secure.

As for Aragorn and Legolas, they were over at the group of elves headed by Elrond to wish us off.

Leading Jacob over, I first came upon Lord Elrond.

"Good morning," I said to his lordship and bowed my head respectfully (you can't not bow to a guy like Elrond…it's almost a physical impossibility)

Bowing back to us, Elrond said, "Tis a fair morning. A morning to start such a journey is a good omen. Would you not both agree?"

Almighty. I wasn't going to miss this guy's weirdness.

"Yeah," I shrugged (way too early in the morning to argue or insult a powerful elf lord). Jacob gave a "Sure" from behind me. Quick to want to leave before Elrond started foretelling or some other freakiness, we bowed again and moved down the line.

"Fierce and fairest of the vampires, our dear Bella," Elladan greeted me with a toothy smile.

"And her valiant, ferocious brother, Jacob," Elrohir added, smiling as well but with a touch more propriety, "Good morrow to you both."

"Hey guys," I smiled at the twins; that fuzzy feeling gone sour built up again in my stomach, "Came to see us off?"

"Of course," Elrohir replied.

"Not to mention, viewing the morning aftermath of last night's feast is quite entertaining," Elladan added evilly, "I was just telling our adoptive brother and Prince Legolas how I could not wait for this ceremony to end, so I could return to my comfortable bed."

"Ass," Jacob muttered glumly at my side and glared at the silliest twin.

Rolling our eyes at our brothers, Elrohir and I then smiled at one another. With a step forward, the first brother eloped me in a hug.

"Fair you well, Bella," he said quietly, "It has been a blessing to spend these days together."

Smiling and trying like heck to ignore my sour stomach and the slight nausea that developed when I'm really sad, I replied, "Keep Elladan out of trouble while I'm gone, yeah?"

For the first time since we met, Elrohir snorted.

"Till we meet again," he said as we released.

Nodding, I allowed Jacob his turn with Elrohir (they didn't hug but gave each other manly hand shakes) and turned to the other twin.

"How is it everyone has told Elrohir to keep me from trouble yet no one has given me the task to watch over him?" Elladan asked teasingly.

I just rolled my eyes at him as he leaned down to hug.

"You shall miss me," he informed me.

"Terribly," I half-jested back; swallowing down the feeling of bile rising.

Then we released and stepped back. "Kill many an orc, fierce Bella," he said with eyes shining, "I shall expect nothing less."

"Only as long as you go easy on Elrohir and Arwen," I poked him in the chest in emphasis.

He grinned back evilly, so I knew only one of us would be keeping this pact.

Passing the dork twins (who I would miss more terribly than I wanted to admit), I almost started hyperventilating at the very sight of Arwen (I really needed to get a grip on myself or else the guys might kick me off the Fellowship for becoming such a pansy).

Already tears cascaded down from her silver blue eyes, I followed their gaze to the turned back of our fearless, still (sadly) mortal leader.

I guess her and Aragorn didn't exactly patch things up before leaving.

"Hey," I quietly said to her as I approached.

With attention on me, Arwen's face turned from heartbreak to sad smile of goodbye. Taking both my hands into her long, soft ones, the elfin lady squeezed them and said, "I shall not cry for _you_, Bella. For I know the High Father has many plans in-store before you leave this world."

Snorting softly, I replied, "Cripes, I hope not. Don't know what more I can take after this quest." And laughed a little to lighten her clearly downed mood.

Still grasping my hands, the Evenstar look past me again and whispered, almost desperately, "Does the pain of heartache lessen over time?"

Oh man. This was so not the time for a Dear Abby moment.

Shrugging, I answered, trying with all my might to sound like I believed in what I was saying, "You never know what the future may bring. Don't give up on him yet, Arwen."

Smiling more at the comeback of her own words, Arwen leaned over and kissed me softly on both cheeks. "Thank you," she said, "I understand how hard it is for you to counsel on that which you are pained by."

"Sorry," I shrugged again, "I'm not the best when it comes to girly stuff like love and break-ups."

"Then you shall have no problem traveling with such rugged creatures," she replied with a teasing smile (both of us well aware of how men could act when not at home and demanding their best behavior).

"Uug!" I grunted and slumped a bit, "You sure you don't want to come along? I pretty sure your presence would help in keeping others from falling behind in certain hygienic areas."

Laughing out loud (sounding like the twinkling of bells…elves, can't live with them, can't out-pretty them), Arwen kissed my cheek again and said, "Happily, I leave that task in your able hands."

"Great," I mumbled and looked away while imagining the chauvinistic surprises I was in store for the next few months.

We hugged again and said a final goodbye to one another. Walking away, I felt a part of me tug at the thought of staying and helping Arwen through this tough time (pure, compassionate, graceful elf ladies will do that to ya)…while another part applauded the thought of going over and whipping Aragorn upside the head for his martyr-stupidity.

Finally, I came to the last member of the immortal goodbye bandwagon.

"'Morning, Goldy-gorgeous," I smiled at my golden-manned friend.

"Bella," Glorfindel bowed to me, then stood back up and appraised my travel garb, "You look quite becoming in our native costume. The leather uplifts the amber in your eyes, and your hair looks well in braids."

For the hundredth time…thank goodness for my lack of blush.

"Thanks," I muttered back, darting my eyes away in a very failed attempt to play off the complement.

The evil moron merely smiled his attractive, sexy smile back...knowing full well how I'd react to that.

"So," I cleared my throat and bobbed on the soles of my feet a little, "Guess this is goodbye until we get back for the post-quest, victory after-party."

At this, Goldy-gorgeous' smile faltered. "No," he replied in a low tone, "I'm afraid, Bella, this is our final goodbye."

Whatever sour, nauseous feeling his complement earlier dashed away, all came barreling in as a tidal wave as I stared back at the elfin chief. Too dumbstruck to speak. Not fully convinced I understood what he said.

Not wishing to wait for my prolonged silence to end, Glorfindel continued, "You see, Lord Elrond has granted me with the task of leading a train of elves for the Grey Havens. From there, I shall help captain their vessel for Valinor. To Rivendell, I shall not return."

Valinor. I didn't really comprehend completely what this place was, but knew it ran as the equivalent as the elfish heaven. Instead of committing suicide when things got old, an elf could choose to take a boat from Middle Earth back to Valinor.

The twins explained this to me when we got around to discussing their hatred for orcs. Apparently, years back, theirs and Arwen's mother (think her name was Celebrian) was traveling from Rivendell to her parents' place and got attacked by orcs. For weeks they tortured Celebrian until the twins found their hideout and saved her (Elrohir didn't elaborate on what they did to the orcs, but the uncompromising hatred in his eyes said it wasn't anything less than NC-17 for gore and violent images). Because of this whole ordeal, Celebrian lost enough of her inner peace to be able to stay in Middle Earth. She sailed to Valinor and currently waits there for the arrival of Elrond and the rest of her family.

Hearing that Glorfindel was bound on a mission for Valinor really sucked because I couldn't stand there and tell him to _not_ go to heaven. It'd be selfish. I suppose the disappointment and hurt came from the bomb getting dropped on the fantasy that after this was all over I'd head back to Rivendell and hang out with Goldy-gorgeous, the twins, Arwen, and Tinu until Jake and I decided to return to our world (still no idea how we were gonna pull that one off).

Of course, I wasn't stupid and forgot the real possibility that, since this was war, people might die. Heck, I might not make it to the end of this quest. My awesomeness in battle wasn't limitless.

Still…it felt a bit soon to be losing friends. Even if it was to something as non-violent as a boat ride.

"Then this is it," I said, biting my bottom lip and trying to look everywhere but at Glorfindel, so he wouldn't see my painful discomfort.

Nodding slowly, the thousands year old warrior seemed at a loss of words as well. Guess the idea of real finality never got easier to deal with.

"Bella," he verbally nudged to regain my eye contact. Swallowing down sour-sickness, I sighed and looked straight back at him.

With a serious, calm expression, Glorfindel put his right hand over his heart than reach it over and cupped my left cheek (dare I say) lovingly.

"_Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín_," he said with raw tenderness as our eyes held.

His hand still on my cheek, I felt a sudden wash of need to hug this elf. Hug him or kiss him or beg him to not go to Valinor. To wait here in Rivendell like I knew the twins were going to. Hell. I'd even support the idea of Goldy-gorgeous coming along on this suicide mission. Another trained soldier never hurt the odds.

Clenching my jaw at breakpoint-tight, I stilled the words from vomiting out. Honestly, I had no idea what to the label the feelings I held for Glorfindel. Perhaps…if there was more time…we could have found that out together. Unfortunately, time again showed how little it cared for the wants and whims of others. All I knew, on that day, standing in front of him for the last time, was that I respected Glorfindel enough to step away and say goodbye without unleashing any unnecessary drama.

"Goodbye, Glorfindel," I said with some tightness and masked any hints of pain with a smile.

"Good journey," he said and let his hand fall, with all its warmth, from my skin.

Then I turned from him, from all my friends, and walked to stand with the rest of the Fellowship.

Shortly after I took my place somewhere between Boromir and Gimli, Jacob walked up beside me and stood. Without saying a word and giving anything away, my brother reached over, took my hand, and squeezed it.

I squeezed back and didn't let go. Ya'll can keep your Dear Abby and gallons of cookie dough ice cream, I'd take a hand of comfort from my best friend any day.

Chicken soup for the soul I tell ya.

In all his sternly-lord-ness, Elrond overlooked the Fellowship before him. He nodded to of us (Jake and myself included) and said, "The Ring-Bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom (must've been the name him, Gandalf, and Aragorn decided on for this mission…better than something stupid like 'Operation Swift Justice' I guess). On you who travel with him no oath or bond is laid, to go further than you will."

Well, guess the pressure is off as far as expectations go.

Beside me, Jacob smirked for a second. As if sharing mental waves with the shape-shifter, I knew his brain was imagining the whole Fellowship taking one step out of Rivendell then calling it quits and making Frodo go the rest of the way alone.

Slightly evil? Yes. Funny. Well, you tell me…A midget has to go throw a ring in a volcano to save the world. What part of that isn't funny?

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-Bearer," Gandalf announced in a booming voice to keep the air of seriousness and ritual going.

Resembling a lost puppy so much I almost whimpered in pity for the little guy, Frodo turned around wide-eyed and started to stumble off through the gates of Rivendell. One-by-one, each of the Fellowship followed in step.

Jake and I were the last before Aragorn, who stayed a little behind to probably get one last look at the perfect girlfriend he thought need to kick to the curb.

"Here we go," I whispered to no one as we turned and went off through the forest.

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_AN: Happy Turkey Day everyone! Wow. Took me long enough to write this. Sorry about the long, long, long wait, guys. I love you all and am thankful you are so patient. Please don't take it out on me and not review. Let me know what you think. Till next time. Review, friends!_


	10. Why the Lost Boys needed Wendy

_Disclaimer: For the names of the authors whose ideas contributed to this story (i.e. Stephenie Meyer and J.R.R. Tolkien) please read the previous chapter disclaimers. Thank you and enjoy.

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Chapter 9: Walk a mile in my shoes…it'll be a mile less for me

The word "quest" is a clever indiscrepancy.

The word "quest" indicates adventure and challenges and swords going _clash clash_ while you throw verbal banter at a fire-breathing dragon.

The word "quest" official has a new definition in my book.

Definition: _Really boring time walking slowly on foot with a bunch of guys that wouldn't talk except to complain about the lack of second-breakfast._

Don't ask what second-breakfast was…the name is pretty self-explanatory.

Definition #2: _The only opportunity men of Middle Earth feel it's okay to fart, pick their noses, spit, and take part in almost every other bodily function in the presence of a female…all the while believing I wouldn't notice._

Definition #3: _An excuse not to shower._

Definition #4: _A sure way to slowly but surely torture any reasonable-minded being to the brink of madness. Note – must be done over a long period of time…short quests will only result in subtle annoyance and a little bickering._

Sorry about the whining, but we'd been "questing" for about two weeks and things started getting boring on Day Three. Along with the farting and Aragorn's unwashed hair (it's gotten so bad that there's no longer any need for a brush…the oils have dried it into a crusty-hair-cap…gross in the purest form of the word), our days kinda related to the conditioning process.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Flipped to….

Travel. Sleep. Repeat.

We'd rise with the sun (Legolas always watching the big ball of flames creep above the horizon so intently I was really close to reminding him that ultraviolet rays fry the pupils). Eat breakfast (courtesy of Sam…round boy can cook!...according to Jake). Men do their "business" (see above mentioned grievances) and then we saddled up and go. Not stopping for hill or high water until late evening.

Being new to Middle Earth style questing and the only female, I started off a little worried on how I could contribute during the non-battling part of the trip. Then the first evening, Aragon started putting together a schedule on who would stay awake during the night to keep watch for nocturnal baddies. Not to interfere with his leadership flow, I almost raised my hand like in elementary school when he asked for volunteers on the first shift.

"Um…I can do it the whole night."

One of those moments, where everyone just stares at you like you announced giant rabbits would be ruling the world by next year, occurred.

"You wish to keep watch for the entirety of the night?" Aragon asked as if to clarify I understood what I was offering.

I shrugged, "Yeah. Not like I need the sleep."

"You do not sleep?" Boromir asked; amazement written over all their (except Jacob and Gandalf's) faces.

"I can…sorta," I replied, "But I don't need it. Not part of the overall wellness for vampires. So, if you want, I can take all the nighttime watch shifts while you guys get rested up."

Again, their amazed stares kept fixed on me and then shifted to Gandalf in silent unified questioning to the truthfulness of this. Granting them a silent answer by not arguing the fact, the wizard only continued smoking his pipe and looking over at me with thoughtfulness and a tinge of amusement…creepy.

Since there were no naysayers, fearless leader Aragorn appointed me as nighttime watcher of the group. I didn't fail to notice Boromir and Gimli sigh with relief over loosing that duty. Something told me the responsibility would have fallen primarily on theirs and Legolas' shoulders, since the hobbits were rookies as stuff like keeping watch and altering for danger.

Not to be undone by my contribution to the team, Legolas, in his generous nature, decided to stay up with me the first couple of nights and make sure I followed through on the deal.

Nothing says awkward like spending endless hours sitting silently next to someone you consider as pleasant as the black plague.

The first night he stayed up with me, Legolas tried pretending to be asleep; unaware I could hear the unsteady thumping of his heartbeat.

_**Fun fact about elves #1:**_ The unschooled companion of an elf would falsely believe the elf never sleeps and instead exists without rest like a vampire, since elves sleep by lying down for hours with their eyes open. Glorfindel…sigh, I miss him and get a queasy, sick feeling whenever I think about his golden hair and studious, attractive, hot, scrumptious – anyway – smile. Glorfindel once explained that elves really don't sleep like men. They lie down and go into a dream state with their eyes always open. Apparently though, the eyes become unfocused and glazed over so you can tell the difference between an awake and asleep elf.

Back to the questing, Legolas laid out his sleeping bag alongside the rest of the group and softened up his breathing while staring up into the stars. I left it alone while I raced about a mile's radius around our sight on the lookout. Confident that nothing out of the ordinary was sniffing our way, I returned and sat down in the quiet of the night to listen as the hours passed.

Finally becoming startingingly aware that one heartbeat wasn't thumping at a slow, sweet rhythm like nine other hearts, I finally whispered somewhat obnoxiously, "Don't sleep well on the ground, Your Highness?"

I smiled briefly in sinister delight when I heard his immortal heart jump in surprise.

"On the contrary," Legolas' low, smooth voice blended perfectly with the wind over the grass and cooled air of the sky…too bad about who the voice belonged too, "I have probably spent more time sleeping on the ground than I have in a bed."

Words literally escaped me due to the pure shock of the moment. An opportunity for a clear jab retaliation and he purposefully missed out. Gee, maybe this elf had the ability to be more mature than your average ten year old? Maybe there was a softer side to Legolas? Maybe this was the beginning step to a beautiful and fulfilling friendship?

Maybe Gimli would start reciting love sonnets to his axe and Sam would make a life choice towards the Atkins diet?

Since all these things seemed unlikely, I just kept my mouth shut and allowed him to get back to his slow breathing.

The next day, as evening rolled around, I started thinking about the previous night and really hoped Legolas would just go to sleep with everyone else and leave me alone. As Gandalf started a fire with his big wooden staff (please don't go there, you sickos), the guys unpacked their dinner supplies and bedding. I ran off to some high grass close by and came back with a couple of wild chickens with snapped necks. Handing them to Sam and Merry to pluck and season, I glanced over to count the bedding.

Five smaller sleeping sets for the hobbits and Gimli. Two for Aragorn and Boromir. Gandalf's larger cloak laid out for his bed.

I'm sure if the ground got too hard, he could conjure up some grass or a mattress or something.

Jacob would phase once the sun went down just in case I needed his backup in a moment's notice. Also, his super high body temperature worked as a heater for the rest.

So one werewolf and eight beds.

Not good.

Looking over at Legolas' feet, sure enough, there sat his bundle of supplies. The blanket and travel pillow wrapped securely to the pack.

Dang-nabit!

I excused myself during the meal to do a few surveillance rounds (and not sit around glaring at a certain pointy-eared royal…people notice stuff like that) and came back after everyone had settled in.

There, sitting pretty and blond, was the elf sharpening a long knife. Not looking the least bit tired.

Before any eye contact should ensue, I deliberately walked to the opposite end of the camp and sat with my back to his.

Needless to say, no verbal bridges were built that night.

The following three nights we repeated this game of who-can-ignore-the-other-without-seeming-rude-and-without-the-others-noticing.

To keep busy in the time between dusk and dawn, when I wasn't doing rounds, I found myself (with ears open for non-Fellowship movement) enjoying the task of looking at the stars. This hobby was nothing new. In fact, when I first moved to Alaska with Cullens after my 'escape' from Volterra, I spent a lot of alone time outside (mostly when Edward got back from spending his own alone time outside…I usually came back in once he retired to go mope around in his room and play Chopin's more depressing works – to this day I still can't stand to sit through _Larghetto _without twitching in annoyance). It got to the point that my first Christmas with them, Esme bought me a few books on constellations and astronomy. From then on, whenever I had some free time, wherever the leeches had sent Jake, I'd lay out and mentally map what stars were showing and their places in the sky in accordance with time and season.

Hence, with my moderately above average knowledge of the night sky, it took almost no time to see that not one star above us was familiar. None of the constellations matched. No Big Dipper. No Draco. No Corvus. No Polaris shining bright to mark the north sky.

Sitting there under a completely alien sky, I felt suddenly very cold and very alone. Pulling my knees to my chest, my mind told me to pull my eyes away from the glittering darkness, but I couldn't. As my eyes continued to jump from end to end of the open sky, I searched almost frantically for a familiar design.

But there was nothing.

I wasn't home.

That's what made me so cold. Even when I was on the deck of a shipping barge in the Indian Ocean, I could look up and see the same moon and sky that hung elegantly over my lawn in Iceland or the Cullen's land in Alaska….the moon and sky that gleamed over my father and mother's gravestones.

This wasn't the same moon and sky of my home.

I'd never been so far from home.

Without realizing it, I let out a long sigh. Truth be told, I kinda was starting to hate the graveyard shift. Not only was the company lacking amiable nature, Jacob wasn't awake to keep my depressing streak at bay.

"Does something about the night sky upset you, Mistress Swann?"

Snapping out of my thoughts, I turned around on the ground and faced where Legolas had turned around to face me. In the clear night, his blue eyes sparkled like jewels and fair hair gleamed with almost a frame of light.

"Huh?" I furrowed my brow; the interruption reminding me that I wasn't alone, so I couldn't quite comprehend his question.

"I heard you sigh," he spoke again, appearing more confused than anything, though his voice did hold a tad of concern…perhaps…it was still hard to tell, "So I wonder if there is something about this night that burdens your thoughts."

"No!" I immediately countered his remark a bit too loudly then glanced around in case my outburst disturbed anyone's sleep (Boromir groaned and gurgled then rolled over…that was about it – everyone else was still out like broken lamps).

Up shot his perfectly shaped eyebrows, but before he could question my state of being further, I continued softly, "No…I'm fine. That sigh didn't mean anything…just (and I used the universal ace card for my gender) girl troubles and stuff. It's nothing…thank you." And I turned my back to him again.

Chewing my lip to the point it should have broken skin, inside I prayed and prayed and prayed Legolas would just leave it alone and go back to our ignoring game. For a while I could feel those sapphire eyes penetrating my spine (his eyes should _not_ have had that effect! stupid attractive elf-jerk abilities!) as he stared. Eru, though, took pity on me and I listened as Legolas turned back around. We went on with our silent game.

* * *

Yep. I officially crossed over the rude line with my response. For all I knew, that was his one and only white flag of concern for my wellbeing and I responded with dancing over it as I sprinkled cow dung.

Forgive me, but I wasn't about to spill my guts about missing stars and home and the man on the moon to a prejudiced, nose-in-the-air prince, who thought I was some double agent from hell.

That was the last night Legolas stayed up with me for nighttime watch.

Also, though it may have been my mind noticing non-existent details, he kept a better distance away from me during the day. We only talked when absolutely necessary.

I ignored the implications of it all and the slight ache of guilt at the bottom of my stomach.

After about two weeks on the road, we took up afternoon lunch and rest on a settlement of large rocks. Per rhythm of our roles, Sam and Frodo started breaking out the cooking supplies. The monkeys on Gandalf and Aragorn's backs must have been chirping, because as soon as those packs hit the floor, each reached up their cloaks and took out tobacco pipes. Gimli started sharpening his beloved (since all this running around obviously wears down unused objects sharpened almost every evening religiously), and Boromir suggested practicing with Merry and Pippin until the food was ready.

Seated on a rock of my own beside (human) Jacob, who was lying down and enjoying the hot sunlight of December in Middle Earth (shirtless of course), I didn't move to do anything. Instead, my empty head only watched as members of our fellowship went about their individual business. When my eyes landed on Legolas, to my surprise, he immediately looked back at me.

I expected that familiar gaze of hatred and loathing he felt I so needed to see in Imladris. Instead, he just stared back with an almost studious expression in nature yet still hard and distrustful.

"You wanna stop staring at the elf and go get something to eat?" my brother grunted with his eyes closed as he sunbathed.

"What!" I spat at him, instantly breaking with Legolas and turning to glare at my very presumptuous brother who apparently had a death wish. At this point, my cheeks would have grown twenty degrees hotter in anger.

A short glance back said Legolas had turned away from us and went about gazing at the far off landscape.

I wonder it he heard Jacob? How good was elf hearing?

Probably really good.

Drat!

Snorting at my response, Jacob went on, "You're starting to get bags under your eyes, sis. You need to eat."

Eat? That thought brought to mind my last meal. A small bear right before we left the Last Homely House. Then that brought thoughts of the taste of bear blood, and before I knew it, my mouth was drowning in saliva by thoughts of blood pumping through the muscles and under the skin of a giant animal.

Gallons and gallons of warm, fresh blood. Yuuummm.

Tensing with shivers of anticipation, I rose to my feet and headed off to find some food. Not before stepping on my brother's stomach, though, as I ran over him.

"Hey!" he yelled in a cough at the sudden weight.

"Jerk!" I shouted back in revenge for his earlier comment about me staring at Legolas (and I _wasn't_ staring…we happened upon one another's gazing and it would have been rude to be the first to look away).

After finding a fine pair of young deer, drinking one dry then locating the other and doing the same, I wiped off the stains of red around my mouth and neck in river water then headed back to the rocks, full and satisfied. With renewed energy from my meal, I leaped atop the rocks and skipped over to my brother who was now sitting up.

About to settle down and rag on him for this and that, I noticed Jacob's gaze pointedly focused straight ahead. Turning to face the sky, I saw Legolas standing in front of us and leaning forward a little, as if trying to gaze further.

"Isabella," Gandalf called over.

Again put off by his use of my given name, I turned to face the wizard to ask him (in a demanding manner) to call me 'Bella' instead…please. What I noticed, though, was he too was staring in the direction of Jacob and Legolas.

So was Gimli, who sat between Gandalf's rocks and mine.

"Yeah?" I asked, thoroughly confused by everyone's marked attention at the sky in front of us.

"What do you see in the distance? Tell me."

Now assured that it was in fact the space in the distance in front of us that held everyone's attention and not something I was obviously missing, I stood up and pierced my gaze to reach further than usual.

There, flying in a large cluster of a hundred or more, were black birds coming right at us at a rapider speed than one usually saw in birds of that size.

"Um…birds. Black-," I replied.

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas yelled before I could finish or ask what the heck was going on. At this announcement of "Crebain" (Middle Earth word for bird?), all chaotic hell broke loose.

"Hide!" Aragorn shouted to the fellowship and people starting rushing around like rabbits in mating season.

At the order from our leader, Jacob and I switched into mission mode and jumped to attention. Grabbing our packs of supplies (Jacob re-shirted himself), we rushed over to a grove under two crossed rocks. All around us, the hobbits packs up their tiny swords and plates of eggs and sausage, Boromir and Aragorn rushed Frodo into a hiding place (he being the extra-special ring bearer he is), Gimli took his beloved and stashed it in a bush before digging himself (quite well) under a bolder. I haven't a clue where the grey guy in a pointy hat went off too (probably wiggled his nose and transported on a cruise deck with a Mojito in one hand and that wooden staff in the other). Didn't catch where Legolas hid (not that I was looking…sheesh).

Once in our grove, I listened with the rest as the swarm of "Crebain" birds flew over us, cawing and crowing very loudly.

'We are hiding from freakin birds!' was all my mind would think in the moment.

Thank Eru Jane wasn't around to see this. She'd probably get so jolly about the ridicule of the situation (me, hiding from birds, under a rock…from freakin birds!), she'd actually consider laughing…now that would've been a scary spectacle to behold.

With the evil birds of Middle Earth finally gone, we all started crawling out of our respective hiding spots.

"Okay," I said to my comrades, "Not to insult anyone here, but you all did hear me clarify those were birds? Right?"

Looking around, I noticed a varying of responding expressions. Jacob and the hobbits all looked as confused as I was (though the hobbits did appear far more frightened…poor little cuties). Gimli appeared unaffected by my question and all together pleased his axe hadn't been harmed in the process of putting it in a bush (I think for Christmas next year I shall get that guy some metal polish…first though, I'd have to explain Christmas…on second thought, a birthday may be safer). Boromir and Aragorn both appeared grim so they knew what was up with the birds. Legolas also apparently knew what was up since he announced the entire shebang; he choose to glare at me for a second for my remark…apparently hiding behind rocks doesn't mesh well with long haired immortals with disfigured ears and crappy temperaments.

"Those birds were spies for Saruman, young one," Gandalf finally answered my question after reappearing (Mojito not in hand…wooden staff accounted for).

Saruman?

While the wizard went on this and that about us having to change course, I started chewing my lip in trying to remember whom Saruman was. There were way too many names involved with this mission.

"Evil wizard who betrayed us to be the whippin' boy for the Dark Lord," Gimli said to me out of the side of his mouth as he listened to Gandalf.

Oh yeah! Now I remembered. Saruman was Gandalf's wizard friend who joined the dark side. Gottcha.

"Thanks," I muttered back. Gimli nodded at me, and then we both returned to listening to our fearless leaders discuss some nonsense about snow and Catterdash…whatever that was.

* * *

Well…_Catterdash_ turned out to be _Caradhras_…one place in Middle Earth they actually got snow in December. I kept my mouth shut when the others moaned and groaned about the extreme drop in temperature (again, possessing a permanent state of homeostasis held its perks…still, there was no need to brag).

As the climb up the side of Caradhras (a mountain of high altitude for those who didn't understand why we happened upon colder climate) turned into a winter wonderland, Jacob practically laughed aloud as he stripped and phased into a very happy werewolf.

Wolf-Jake loved fields of white snow with animalistic passion. Breaking from the line of trudging travelers, in which I now held my own luggage along with his lazy butt's, my brother spent the rest of the day rushing to and fro and all about, yipping joyfully along as he played like a puppy in the snow (a giant, ferocious puppy with teeth sharp enough to tear vampire flesh).

Alas, the magic of the snowflakes couldn't last forever.

Later in the afternoon on our first day up Caradhras, the mountainside got particularly vertical. To our right, about a quarter of a mile off, the edge gave way to an endless fall of certain death. On top of sucky landscape, the ground gained rockiness and the snow became higher and more slippery to step on.

Legolas (cough – blowhard – cough) showed off his total awesome self by walking along on top of the snow without sinking beneath.

My gosh, how impressive he is that we should all swoon in amazement.

The rest of us mere - um…mortals and non-elfish immortals - fought to not fall and roll down the mountain. Jacob quickly got passed his playful puppy mood and stayed close to the hobbits, who were having the worst time out of all of us to keep their footing (that's what you get for foregoing proper footwear).

Anyway, along this completely pleasant portion of our quest, the sound of a yelp and falling caused everyone to turn and watch Frodo tumble backwards and back roll several feet past Gimli and Boromir.

"Frodo!" Aragorn and I yelled. Moving along with Jacob and Sam to go help him, we all stopped when Aragorn quickly stooped to pick the Ringbearer back up.

The ranger started brushing snow from Frodo's cape and all seemed well again. About to tell Jacob to go walk beside Frodo, since he was the last hobbit in the line, I paused when a strange smell hit my nose.

Sniffing to take it in, I smelled a faint odor similar in traits to lust, sweaty and heated, and with it came the sudden racing of a loud, thumping heartbeat. Following from the scent's origin, my eyes found Boromir's back with him facing a disturbed Aragorn and frightened Frodo (when does that guy not look frightened…note to self, have Jacob tell more jokes during our afternoon and evening rests). I knew Aragorn was disturbed not due to his face (guy carried himself like a Las Vegas poker champion); it was his right hand he slyly placed on the hilt of his sword.

Whatever made Boromir smell the way he did, was causing Aragorn to consider slicing and dicing the guy's sorry butt.

Sniffing more deeply, another faint odor entered the mix. One of metallic and power…almost like the way Gandalf or Morinehtar smelled when they did something extra special weird.

Metallic and power.

Oh poo on a cracker.

"Boromir," Aragorn's voice sounded way too pleading, and I listened as everyone behind me turned to face the drama.

"It is a strange fate," the Gondor captain began saying, sounding almost as if speaking to himself alone, transfixed and thoughtful, "that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing."

The smell of lust grew more potent. Jacob growled beside me softly and his hair stiffened upward.

'Give Frodo back the ring, Boromir!' I screamed inside, laying a hand on my brother's head to calm his growing apprehension. From the one time I came face to face with the evil ring from hell, I understood my companion's fixation. Still, if it came down to it – and I really didn't want it to – I wouldn't stop Aragorn or Jacob from tearing that piece of golden crud from Boromir's hand and returning it to its rightful guardian.

Wouldn't do a whole heck of a lot for the overall morale of the group though.

Aragorn tensely told his fellow human to give the ring back to Frodo. As if realizing him and ring weren't the only two beings on the planet, Boromir snapped into action and gave the ring back. Then, in a feeble attempt to play off the almost-fight scene that could have gone down, he petted Frodo and walked off, laughing it all off nervously and pointedly ignoring the rest of us who still stood there with nervous stares.

The rest of the day, he didn't make eye contact or conversation with anyone. In fact, we all were a little more quiet than usual until evening camp.

Again, I volunteered for graveyard while the others went under the makeshift, giant tent Aragorn and Legolas tied together from all the collective capes. To keep everyone extra warm due to their loss of another layer, wolf-Jacob licked me goodnight on the cheek and went inside the tent to radiate his hundred-plus degree body heat.

Because of the many cliffs surrounding our camp, I didn't take as long with the nighttime surveillance. Upon my return, I saw a dark blob of a person seated outside the tent. One sniff relieved my fears that it wasn't Legolas.

Boromir, looking quite pitiful, was seated on the snowy ground with his extra cloak wrapped securely around and his grayish blue eyes searching the snow for absent answers.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked kindly, not wanting him to feel unwelcome in my presence due to earlier.

Apparently my ninja skills weren't in any danger of loosing their effect, since the warrior almost jumped a foot in the air at my question, totally oblivious to my approaching presence.

"Mistress Bella!" he huffed and puffed to catch his surprised breath, "You move as well as the elvin kind."

"Thanks," I shrugged, went over, and sat beside him.

Looking away from me again and frowning, the captain swallowed and said, "You have taken the burden of nighttime watches since we began this quest, milady. I came to help you some. If that it alright?"

We both knew his explanation was horse crap.

He wanted to join me because that meant not having to spend the night in a tent with nine guys that witnessed him droll over the ring of power and probably thought he might try to steal it while the rest of them slept. Not the best atmosphere of distrust to get a hearty night's sleep in.

Sure, I held my own opinions about the whole ordeal, but one female over nine males (one a billion year old wizard and one elven royalty) probably seemed less suffocating.

"Sure," I smiled a little, not wanting to make it so obvious I knew his true intentions, "Could use another set of eyes out here. Sometimes all the silence and solitude gets so boring I loose my focus."

Nodding and loosing some of the tenseness in his shoulders, Boromir accepted my answer gratefully and relaxed more as time went by. Neither of us talked for a while as we both mused along with our separate thoughts and searched the cold night of snowy mountains shining brilliantly in the full moon's light.

"How long have you…lived alongside men of war?" Boromir asked quietly, as if half-hoping I wouldn't hear the question.

Confused by his question a little, I still answered after doing the math in my head. "Close to five hundred years I guess," the reply came with a shrug.

Snorting softly at my answer (can't blame him…here beside him sat a small girl who looked ten years his junior), Boromir went on softly, each word gaining shame, "Have you – in all those years – witnessed warriors become weak from temptation? Loose their honor?"

Sighing, I understood now where this was coming from. Boromir saw what he did earlier as an act that proved he failed when confronted with temptation. His honor was on the line now as well as his standing among the fellowship. These were not easy worries for a man who lived for his fellow man's respect and the goal of gaining a name worthy to be talked about generations to come.

With another sigh, the thought I voiced was the best answer I could come up with. Because, truthfully, in all my years, I really didn't have too much experience with a whole lot of warriors. At least not enough to know their struggles. Basically it always consisted of Jacob, the Cullen's, the Volturi, and myself. Sure, Jacob had his fair share of tough times – as well as the Cullens (if the Volturi ever struggled with anything I never cared enough to ask about it), but nothing to the latitude of a great story worthy of note for Boromir.

"I remember," I began, my eyes becoming unfocused as my mind brought back pictures from memories centuries old, "When I first really reentered the human world. It must have been about seventy or so years after I got turned into a vampire. It was…well…I was honestly horrified at the situation."

"Did the humans know of your…species?" Boromir asked, clearly interested in my story.

"No," I shook my head, remembering my terror during the car ride over with Alice and Jasper to town (my entire body was shaking and I broke off the door handle when I tried to open the door), "My friends…they took me to a café – type of eating establishment – during the dinner rush, so we blended in pretty well with the crowd. Before this, I had only encountered humans in ones or twos and from a great distance. I was…so afraid…I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"You were frightened about yourself?"

"Yeah," I answered, realizing he didn't understand what human beings really did to vampires, especially young ones, "I had made a point to stay away because I didn't want the temptation to harm anyone, so I made myself get use to animal blood. After decades of staying away, everyone said it was time for me to try being around humans."

"Did you succeed in maintaining yourself?" he asked, "Surely, after years of training-"

Shaking my head, I watched my companion's face turn to surprise. "I didn't harm anyone," I explained the first possibility that might have come to his mind, "But the minute I came close to them…the smell of it…you have no idea how intoxicating it was…I literally stopped walking just to bask in it. Then, on impulse I started toward the first person in front of me. A young girl who worked there, no more than fourteen years old. I looked at her and all I could see was the blood in her veins that I wanted so much. All I wanted to do was slash her throat and drink every drop of her. Everything about her tempted me."

To my relief Boromir didn't move away at hearing my delight in the idea of dowsing myself in an innocent girl's blood.

"I was tempted," I said, finally getting to the point of all this, "But the moment my friends brought me back, I remembered that I was better than my temptations. The fact is, Boromir, even the best person out there is going to be tempted by something. That's the crappy part of this messed up world. What makes us better than some is that we step back from it when we remember we have a choice. I was tempted to kill everyone in that place, sure, but that doesn't make me their murderer. You choose to give Frodo back that ring. That action makes you a stronger man than your temptation."

"Temptation and fear should not stop our actions," he clarified to himself. I nodded in agreement, and an intangible weight was lifted from the air around us. Content with what was said, we each returned to our thoughts, much more comfortable than before.

"So, milady," Boromir turned his face towards me again and smiled in a much friendlier manner than ever before (apparently this was touchstone in our friendship than now meant we were closer…fine by me), "You have shown me counsel in a matter of my own struggles. Is there anything I may help you with in return? Perhaps on a certain matter with a certain prince?"

Snorting, I shook my head in negation. It was far too late for my thoughts to even go in that direction. Gazing up at the sky, my mind returned to the place of desolation it found itself in so much these days. Perhaps it was the conversation just had. Perhaps it was the winter air making the alien stars so much brighter. For whatever reason, I replied, "I miss home (my throat suddenly went dry at voicing the thought)…being here…I don't know. I just really miss home…and it makes me wonder…about my dad."

At Boromir's silence, I turned and only saw non-judgment waiting for me to go on with what I needed to say.

"I wonder," my breath still catching as my throat restricted more and more with each word, "if he'd be proud of me. What he would think of me…as a…"

"Vampire," he finished when I couldn't.

Looking away since visually knowing another's presence was too hard, I stared at the ground as he was doing before. Our roles switched from the shameful one now the counseling ear.

The movement of his hands caught my hearing and then I felt a weight cover my arms and back. I looked and found his cloak covering my body.

With a gentle hand on my arm, Boromir caught my eyes and gazed very steadily into them. "I did not know your father, Lady Bella, but I would find only honor and pride in calling you my daughter," he said with all seriousness and sincerity.

I swallowed back the giant thump in my throat and felt my heart grow warm and break a little bit at the same time.

Rubbing my arm for a second, Boromir nodded at me and silently went to his feet and returned to the tent. Honor and self-respect again secured.

I watched after him then snuggled into the giant cloak, pretending I felt its warmth against an ineffective icy night. Gazing up at the full moon and her pearly glow, my thoughts carried back to the last time a man offered me his coat.

_It was late fall. About two months after Edward and the Cullens split town "for my own good."_

_I had been lying on my bed. Homework done. Radio playing some sappy love song by a tween singer missing her man oh-so-much at night. The picture of pathetic teenage angst._

_Hearing a soft knock at my door, I mumbled for them to open and Charlie, ever respectful of my space, only propped it open enough for me to hear him say that Jacob was at the front door._

_Sighing and swearing my body weight was five hundred pounds heavier than before, I pulled myself from a motionless state. Truly, I would have much preferred to send my dad off with the message that I didn't want to talk to anyone today (being around normal, happy people was hard enough at school back then, so home was my escape into singular depressing reality that happily-ever-after was bird crap they fed to little kids to make parents buy Disney movies). Unfortunately, if I told Jacob to bug-off, he'd only leave the front door and then super-jump up to my window and demand my attention in some very obnoxious manner._

_Dragging my feet all the way to the first floor, Charlie followed behind me and stepped back to watch as I opened the front door to my very pleased looking best friend._

"_Good evening, Bella," Jacob said, smiling widely as if to mock my obvious mournful state, "I have come here tonight to invite yourself and Mr. Swan to the Annual Forks' Guys and Dolls Movie Festival."_

"_The what?" I asked, already rejecting the idea, since it probably entailed me leaving the house._

"_It's a classic movie festival at the community rec center," my dad said from behind, "They show Clark Gable and Judy Garland-type movies and usually one musical. The Ladies Auxiliary uses it as an opportunity to sell candy and gain free will donations to raise money for veterans. It's pretty fun."_

_Shockingly, Charlie actually sounded interested in this movie festival. Not yet willing to give up a night spent with tissues and Poe's best poetic insights on life's disappointments, I sent my dad a pleading look for him to not push this. To my dismay, he sent me a pleading look back that said he really wanted me to take advantage of this opportunity to get out of the house and do something that might get a certain ex off my mind. Looking from him to Jacob, who literally reminded me of a begging dog at the table, I sighed and resigned myself to their hands._

_Charlie drove the three of us to the rec center and pushed thirty bucks into the Ladies Auxiliary donation can. Jake bought him and I a tub of popcorn and diet soda then we all headed into the darkened basketball court gym._

_The floor was covered in tarp to protect the court, and scattered about, families and groups of friends had blankets and pillows laid out as they picnicked in front of the wall. Projecting on a large white screen sheet hung by the Auxiliary was one of Cary Gable's later films I recognized. The name escaped me, though I knew the plot as his character being some grumpy old guy who lives on an island, whose life gets interrupted by a cultured, French governess and her girlhood charges. Of course, by the end, Gable's character and the French governess fall in love and get married._

_Hollywood was deceitfully wonderful like that._

"_Hey, Bella!" came a familiar and very much unwanted shout from the other side of the gym. Even though I recognized the enthusiastic voice, I still squinted over and made out Mike Newton waving feverously to get my attention._

_Since the Cullens left town, Mike had made it his life's breath and bread to get my attention whenever we were within a mile of one another. I eventually had to block his calls, he called so much to check in on how I was doing and did I need anything and he was always free if I wanted to get together sometime and bash on how much of a douche Edward was for leaving as great of a girl as me. _

_Beside Mike was Jessica Stanley pulling on his shoulder and probably telling him to sit down and stop making a complete fool of himself. When she noticed me looking, she too waved a little then went back to glaring at her boyfriend(?) (I honestly never checked in during those final months in Forks to see if they started dating). To end this horrifically embarrassing display I waved back at Mike, and shook my head and pointed at my dad and Jacob when he started motioning me to go sit with him and Jessica._

_Ignoring Mike's very depressed reaction (which actually could hold a candle to my entire disposition for that week), I edged closer to my dad to avoid the view of anyone else that saw fit to shout my name across a dark gym._

_Beside me, Jacob stopped abruptly and looked to the back toward where we entered. Frowning deeply and creasing his brow, he turned to Charlie and I and said regrettably, "Hey, you two go ahead. Some guys from the Res just showed up that I really need to talk too."_

_Confused by my friend's mysterious behavior, I took the popcorn tub he handed me and watched him walk out of the gym._

_Much later on, I learned that Jacob was telepathically called by Sam Uley to attend an emergency pack meeting. Apparently one of the pack members, I think Jared, smelled the presence of a non-Cullen vampire and found a hobo dead in the woods. His throat punctured and body fully exsanguinated. _

_Jacob eventually told me this when the Volturi divulged that they did indeed send a scout to recon the area before coming after me._

_Anyway, back at the gym, Charlie and I eventually found a free spot closer toward the screen and apologized as we walked in front of a few young couples and a family of seven. Several adults greeted my father (him being the head of the sheriff's department and all) and I waved back (sincerely this time and with a small grin) when Angela Weber waved a little (with the hand she didn't have looped under Ben Cheney's arm) and mouthed "Hello."_

_Sitting down in our spot, we shared the popcorn and my soda as Clark Gable shined before us in romantic-comedic splendor. As the movie ended, I never realized that thoughts about Edward magically left my head as my attention instead fixated on the movie and that the gym was rather cold._

_Trying to hold back my body's reaction, I still ended up shivering and chattering as the next movie got started. Credits and classic show tunes danced along for _"Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" _and I tried to keep my mind off the cold to no avail. Rubbing my arms across the goose bumps budding all over, my mind started cursing myself for forgetting my warm jacket lying on the chair in my bedroom._

_I didn't even hear him take it off._

_In a sudden change in temperature, I felt Charlie place his thick, police jacket across my shaking shoulders. Mirroring my actions of rubbing, his hands starting heating me up quite quickly._

"_Cold, Bells?" my dad asked with a tinge of humor._

_I looked up and saw that rare, small smile under his moustache. Shrugging and smiling back, I leaned over onto his arm to secure myself from the coolness of the gym._

_His arm around my tiny frame, Charlie continued to rub my side and kept me close._

"_You know…" he gruffly said then stopped, as if unsure, "You know I love you, Bells. No matter what, I will always love you. I will always be on your side."_

_Not able to speak, because I would have started crying, I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded against his shoulder._

_Snuggling closer to my dad, I stayed in that exact position for the rest of the night as we watched movies and ate buttery popcorn. Just Charlie and me._

Three and a half weeks later. My dad was dead on our dining room floor and I was screaming in pain in the back of a black car.

* * *

_AN: Okay peoples. Here is another chapter. Not too much action, true. But I wanted to get in a lot of relational time between Bella and some of the members of the fellowship. Also, I really wanted to get a flashback between Bella and Charlie. More action in the next chapter! Cross my heart. In the meantime…Review!_


	11. This Reminds Me of Black Licorice

_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight (about 40% of my story). Tolkien owns Lord of the Rings (about 50% of my story). Therefore, a whopping 10% of this story belongs to me.

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_

Chapter 10: Sense, Sensibility and Sea Monster; Pride, Prejudice and Zombies; Evil Wizards, Evil Octopuses and…a Very Naked Werewolf

"There's a fell voice on the air!"

I physically had to withhold myself from pushing that damn elf off the stupid mountain Gandalf (stupid wizard) and his stupid brain thought would be a good idea to climb across.

Please excuse the bad mood. It came along when we got to hiking the second day on Caradhras. Out of nowhere the wind started picking up to blizzard conditions and even my vampire-quality vision did diddly-squat against this white-out. Currently, we were on a very narrow path on the side of the mountain (once again, Gandalf's idea…next time he asked for suggestions on decision-making, I was going to pip up with preference to something that didn't include enormous heights and suicidal qualities). Gandalf pioneered the way, using his giant staff to burrow a passage for the rest of us. Gimli followed right behind, refusing to be carried despite his less than helpful height.

Again, Legolas was prancing along above everyone whose actual body weight was affected by the earth's gravity (I wonder, if I did push him over the edge, would he float away with the wind?).

The freezing temperatures quickly turned the hobbits blue in the face and their feet couldn't really take the harshening cold, so Boromir and Aragorn each carried two. Able to help with the midget weight, Jacob bounded up beside the men and both put one hobbit on his back, so Boromir was only carrying Merry and Aragorn held Frodo. Pippin and Sam appreciated the heat waves off wolf-Jacob, so buried their exposed faces against his fur to keep the frostbite at bay.

"What did the elf say?" Gimli yelled out above the howling wind.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf shouted out.

"Where!" I yelled without thinking and whipped my head around, searching for the evil wizard as if he would be flying on broomstick in the air to our right (where the narrow ridge dropped off to vertical doom).

Yeah…pretty quickly I figured out Saruman wasn't actually _there_ there…the stress and my crappy mood of the situation really brought out the stupid in me.

Legolas kind of stared back at me, clearly sharing the opinion that my remark hadn't been the brightest thing to say. I sent a quick glare his way then watched Gandalf suddenly jump out of our group chain and started shouting in a language I didn't understand (shocker). Whatever the grey, old man was saying grew louder and I realized it was some sort of chant. Then the sound of the wind coupled with another voice (Saruman's probably…it held definite wicked tones in its gusto), which boomed like a thunder. Smells of power carried in the wind and radiated off Gandalf's pointy hat.

The battle of the bearded ones (assuming Saruman shared similar facial hair with Gandalf and Morinehtar) commenced.

For a few moments, foreign words wailed in waves all around. The rest of us non-magic wielding folk only watched with open-mouthed and shaking bodies. Jacob started backing away, not a fan of magical forces beyond his control, and gave a faint whimper.

Crack!

All heads instantly faced up as a giant streak of lightening stabbed the mountain wall above. Down fell an avalanche of ice sheets, heading straight down to land on our poor souls.

Time to move.

Everyone started yelling to take cover. The men hugged their hobbits closer and threw themselves against the mountainside, as far away from the ridge as possible. I didn't see what happened to Gimli (prayed that he dived back as well). In those last seconds, half my mind ordered to go grab Gandalf, who still stood at the ridge's end, desperately chanting to regain control of the situation.

Before I could cease hesitating though, a strong, sharp grip grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back as I screeched at the unexpected pain. Thankfully, I saw a blond headed figure hug the wizard from behind and pull him to cover.

Screams of raining snow and ice landed on us with such force, I got pushed off my footing and found myself buried in darkness and silence before I could try to stand again. My mouth, still open from screeching, was cluttered with snow and ice. Beneath my knees, the ground of snow slid toward the edge as the continuing falling snow above me pushed towards the ridge. Struggling to keep close to the wall behind, I ignored the lingering pain in my shoulder and dug with my feet and hands beneath to find solid ground to anchor to (snow digging into my nostrils and under my closed eyelids). Inching farther and farther forward, I felt the lungs in my chest restrict with growing fear.

I'm not absolutely sure if the fall would have killed me…but it sure as black on crows wouldn't have felt all that great.

Finally slowing in pace, the icy captivity halted and I stopped digging downward as my dead heart calmed down in aching stress. Not completely sure as to what direction was up, I allowed some spit to dribble out.

Turns out I was facing directly downward and had begun digging in the direction of the actual ridge.

Not gonna mention that part to the guys.

Getting my head straight, I used uber-vamp strength and resurfaced above the avalanche-aftermath in no time.

Blowing the snow out of my mouth, I rubbed the frozen moisture from my eyes and found Carahdras as just as calm and pleasant as before the avalanche.

I official hated blizzards from this time on.

"Grrumph!" came a growl from a little over and I twisted my body free as I watched Legolas pull a very snowy dwarf from beneath the bank. Gandalf (hat and staff accounted for) was already out of the snow.

Searching around for the rest, I saw Frodo and Aragorn burrowing their way out.

"Jacob," I called out, not seeing any sign of wolf or fur.

No answer came except for Boromir, Merry and Sam all budding out and gasping for air.

"Jacob!" my voice screamed with a little more terror than I was ready to admit to myself when I saw Sam emerge without his source of heat.

"Jacob!"

I started swimming with all my strength for the edge, crazed thoughts bombarding my head of Jacob and Pippin getting caught up in the snow cascading off the mountain.

"Miss Bella! Over here!" Pippin's call halted my struggle. From behind, closer to Sam, Pippin's small hands were clasped around the neck of the most glorious werewolf I'd ever seen. Grasping with his teeth, my survived brother (thank Eru!) was straining to reach at Sam, who was sinking beneath the snow again. I rushed over and took Pippin from around Jacob and he grabbed at the fattiest hobbit, who was thankful for a steady body to cling to once again.

"Thank (chattering teeth) good-goodness you are alright, m-milady," Pippin's small frame shook violently in my arms. I felt terrible that my body was as warm as stone and didn't provide any warmth, so I started rubbing his back to create friction. Really didn't do much though.

"We need to get the hell outta here!" I yelled at Gandalf (thinking of Pippin and the other freezing hobbits…my blood pumping and head pounding in anger since I was really not at all happy with the wizard since this was somewhat his fault for choosing a sucky, narrow ridge on the side of a snowy mountain…evil wizard intervening or not – the whole decision wasn't the wisest).

"Bella is right!" Boromir shouted out in agreement (holding his own bluish-ing Merry), "We must make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn argued.

It was fifty below zero and icicles were forming in almost everyone's beards (except my beard-free face of course…and Legolas'…actually, I had yet to see an elf with facial hair…curious). Now was so not the time for a Mapquest debate!

"As long as it gets us out of the snow, who gives a flip!" I shouted back, not so helpful but making it clear I wasn't in the mood to see those two get into it about their growing mutual trust issues.

"Saruman's tower is in Isengard!" Aragorn yelled at me, furious I dared question his leadership. (Sheesh) Clearly this guy wasn't use to being questioned about his decisions (sorry, not all of us are in the know about where evil baddies of Middle Earth live).

Side note to wonder about later- post-hypothermia conditions: Why did Saruman have a tower? Was this normal for a wizard? Did Gandalf have a tower? Exactly how awesome and tall could Middle Earth towers get?

"We cannot pass over the mountain. Let us go under it," Gimli suggested, keeping a cool head in the middle of our tantrum (maturity points for the dwarf!), "Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

There was a passage under this mountain? Where the heck was that choice after the crows went all Hitchcock on our butts two days ago?

"Let the Ring-bearer decide," Gandalf replied.

Wow. Really? What happened to the chant-happy wizard demanding we stay the course against a falling avalanche? Did it really only take that much to break his confidence?

Still looking at Gandalf in wonderment at his sudden change in disposition, I almost didn't catch Boromir yell again in emphasis that we all really needed to high-tail it out of here before the hobbits lost feeling in their hairy, little feet.

Hugging Pippin closer and continuing to try to warm him, I watched with the rest as Frodo internally battled with his decisions.

Poor little guy.

Boromir's choice to head toward his city wasn't only a matter of its proximity to Isengard, but also meant we'd be on the home-turf of the member of the Fellowship who had almost fallen under the ring's spell only yesterday.

Yeah, no a real question as to why Frodo was taking a moment to mull it over in his head.

"We will go through the mines," the small, curly brunette announced, trying to sound as confident in his decision as he wanted to be.

We couldn't have left that mountaintop fast enough.

* * *

As soon as we got off the narrow ridge, I placed Pippin back on Jacob's coat to warm up again. Walking beside my brother the rest of the way down, I spent most of it scratching the place behind his ears. Re-memorizing the feel of his large wolf ears and soft fur and the way he pleasantly growled deep in his chest, making it rumble, I felt the terror from before slowly melt away as the group descended further and further from the snowy caps of Carahdras.

"Miss Bella," Frodo said from where he was walking behind me alongside Sam, "Your cloak and coat are torn at the shoulder."

Remembering the moments before my icy confinement, I felt at where Frodo was pointing and sure enough, a large tear was present. Jagged edges lined the tears, which went deep enough in a few spots that I could see the white skin of my shoulder.

"Oh yeah," I mused aloud, sticking two fingers in a couple of the holes that penetrated to the epidermis, "I think Jacob caught hold of me and pulled me back toward the mountain earlier. Must have torn some my clothes accidentally."

"Are you harmed?" Aragorn asked with concern (apparently our spat earlier was long forgotten…a good trait to find in leadership, maybe this guy had some real potential after all), immediately walking back to me and reaching to examine the shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I saw Boromir and the hobbits move to do the same.

"I'm fine," I protested, stepping away from everyone.

No touchy, touchy the vampire please.

Glancing beside me at Jacob and looking very pointedly at his set of giant, razor-sharp canines, Aragorn then searched my shoulder again for some kind of sign of injury. His assumptions were logical. In anyone else (non-vampiric that is), a bite deep enough from wolf-Jacob in their shoulder would leave a hefty mark of torn muscle and hemorrhaging blood.

"Vampire," I shrugged, "We heal easily."

Sending another wary look at Jacob and I, the ranger walked on ahead. The hobbits (two of which had spent the better part of the day on Jacob's back) stared after Jacob with wide eyes but didn't say anything.

Apparently piggy-back rides on wolf-Jacob wasn't going to be as high on the activities list anymore.

By late evening, we were pretty much back on ground level. Sick of the endless walking on downward slopes, I almost clapped with glee when Gimli announced we had arrived at the Mines of Moria…the entrance.

Turns out the Mines of Moria's entrance was a really…really nondescript wall of rock.

A wall of rock? On the side of a mountain? How original.

Cripes. If I never saw another wall of stone or snow-capped mountaintop after this, it would be too soon.

To lighten my mood, it was quite funny to watch Gimli practically wet himself with excitement.

Crossing alongside the pebble beachside of a giant pool of water, I faintly heard the sound of a thumping heart under our feet. I didn't get to think much on the matter since the Fellowship's dwarf member started acting particular and tapping his beloved axe against the giant dreary wall of mountain rock.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, slightly disturbed that perhaps the drastic change in temperatures over the past couple of days may have damaged some brain matter.

"Searching, missy (usually I would have bared fangs at that title, but he said it the way an uncle or elderly gentlemen would so I silently designated the dwarf as the only person allowed that privilege)," Gimli replied enthusiastically and continued to tap against the mountain, "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. We must search out the entrance of Moria in order to discover its passage."

"Oh," I nodded in understanding then questioned on my curiosity toward his entire zeal over the fact that we were about to go underground…most people didn't get all that jazzed about the prospect. Of course, Gimli wasn't most people.

"My cousin, Balin, is Lord of Moria, milady," Gimli stated proudly, "A fine leader and hospitable host for any who come to his door (then glanced at his elf companion for a moment)…well, almost any. A bit bigheaded when it comes to his valuables but that comes naturally to the mining trade. Nature of the work, ya see. Happens when there aren't enough orcs around ta stick yar axe in."

Nodding some more, I smiled at the dwarf and allowed myself to feel a bit excited as well. Sure, from observing Gimli's manner in the weeks I'd known him, it was highly doubtful his cousin and the rest of the dwarfs of Moria could outdo the time I'd had in Imladris. Yet, that was like comparing apples to oranges. They were two very different people and each had to be taken with their respective cultures. Elves were so in tune with the deep, faith-based power of Middle Earth, it was almost surreal to be in their company. Gimli, on the other hand, was down to earth in every sense of the phase. Blunt. Literal. Simple. Hard to the core and wore his seriousness as proudly as his armor. Yep, dwarves were probably gonna prove to be as different to elves as fire to ice. I enjoyed my time with the elves, sure, but that didn't keep me from looking forward to spending some time with other peoples. Especially when they were willing to be hospitable about it.

Eventually Gandalf led us to a patch of really pathetic looking trees by the pool of dark water (heard the heartbeat get a tad louder…as soon as we got this door open, I'd mention something to one of our fearless leaders), he started caressing the wall and muttering stuff to himself.

The rest of us watched with batted breath…or confusion as to whether old age had finally gotten to the pointy-hatted one.

Then, just to throw it in our faces that he was _still _the most magical one of all, Gandalf whispered something about "moonlight," turned around, looked up, and out popped a full moon.

Okay, I'll give it to him. Moving the clouds with your mind is a pretty cool trick.

What got even cooler was when the area he'd been fondling started to light up in a silvery white. In front of our eyes, a seemingly normal wall of rock shaped out into an intricate, pearly white door design.

Stepping back and looking quite pleased with his own awesomeness, Gandalf then read out the symbols arching over the door design.

"_The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter_."

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked, eyes wide like a child's looking in a toy store window display around Christmas.

"It's quite simple," Gandalf assured us lesser minds, "If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open."

Then, in another display of his awesomeness far superior than our own, Gandalf the wizard put his magical wooden staff against the door and thundered out a very powerful sounding password phase I couldn't even begin to understand.

…..

And exactly one hour later, Gandalf was still doing the exact same things since the first hundred powerful incantations hadn't worked for his magical, wooden staff.

The rest of us non-magic wielding, lesser minds were spread out along the pebble shore of the dark pool of water.

Merry and Pippin started throwing rocks in the waters. Merry suggested it after Gandalf shouted at his younger cousin for asking a question and put poor Pippin in a sad mood.

I understood that the wizard was frustrated at such a trivial thing as forgetting a password, but he didn't need to shout at a cute little thing as Pippin and threaten to bash his head against the wall! If Gandalf didn't need to concentrate in getting us through the magic, glowing door, I'd would have given him a piece of my mind about controlling his temper and not going bipolar on everyone whenever things went a bit wrong.

Frodo was sitting around with his usual sad, confused, scared expression. Sam was matching his friend's expression…but I think that had more to do with Aragorn insisting the hobbit finally give up letting his pony ride along with us. Though, I'm not sure whether Sam was sadder at seeing his pet go or at the lesser amount of food we now could bring along since we lacked a luggage carrier.

Gimli sat on a bolder next to Boromir, looking kind of depressed and insulted…Gandalf refused his help when he earlier offered it. Once again, I understood that the guy was a wizard and poster-child of powerful beings, but some input from a dwarf about a door that led into a _dwarf _mine, probably commissioned by _dwarves_ might have proved helpful. Personally, the only reason I think Gimli wasn't audibly whining about his underappreciated state was that Gandalf was still trying and failing (in a big way) to open the door all by his-onesyes.

Let him dig his own grave. A very self-serving and lazy sort of revenge.

As for the rest of us, Legolas was standing on a tree…didn't know why and wasn't gonna ask. I was taking a note from Gimli's book and sharpening my long, boot knives with the travel-size wet stone Tinu packed in my belt.

Wolf-Jacob was sleeping…and snoring (in a _big_ way.)

Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump!

That wasn't wolf-Jacob.

Practically vibrating my eardrum, the earlier sound of a heartbeat suddenly bombarded my super-vamp hearing. Snapping my head up from the task at hand, I looked out at the waters. Crystal black and still as glass.

Well, except for the circular waves spreading out wherever Merry and Pippin threw their rocks.

Stilling my hands, I waited to hear the sound again.

'Probably nothing,' the hopeful voice in my head assured my gut instincts, 'Just a sea-bottom creature that-'

Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump!

That sound was even closer to the surface than before.

Jumping to my feet, I placed the knives in my boots and raced over to Aragorn who was pacing around in search to find something leader-y to do.

"Aragorn," I said, touching his arm, keeping my voice low as to not alert anyone else.

"Yes, milady," he faced down to look at me, eyes creasing and frown growing when he saw the upset look on my face, "What is the matter?"

"There's something in the water," I half-whispered back, jilting my head in the direction of the pool.

"Yes, so-"

"Something _big_," my voiced deeper and emphasized the second word to hold better meaning than it usually meant. Staring seriously into Aragorn's eyes, I tried to silently let him in on my thoughts that the undersea creature I was talking about probably wasn't some giant dolphin that loved giving small children rides on its back.

Nodding shortly and not bothering to ask how I got this information, Aragorn walked over determinedly and grabbed at Merry's arm before the hobbit could pelt another rock.

"Do_ not_ disturb the water," the human commanded in a tone that left not an inch for argument. In the proper fashion of good elementary school students, Merry and Pippin dropped their rocks back on the ground and went to go sit beside Sam and Frodo. Both cousins adding to their fellow hobbits' negative expressions with looks of severe disappointment at their game being cut short.

Aragorn glanced back at me and I just shrugged. We both knew the group couldn't leave this area until Gandalf's senile mind remembered the password, so the best thing to do was wait quietly and hope whatever was hiding beneath the water's surface would ignore us and stay where it was.

Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump!

Our hopes weren't all that promising.

"Did you tell Aragorn of the creature?"

"Yeep!" I squeaked and jumped a foot in the air before slamming a hand over my mouth and turning around to see who had suddenly whispered in my ear.

Closer than he'd ever been before (not counting that one time we almost got into a physical tiff), Legolas was standing right next to me.

"Wwawt?" I mumbled through my hand, not remembering whatever the elf had asked, since my blood was too busy pounding through my ears from the unexpected shock of his presence.

Raising an eyebrow, Legolas asked quietly, "Did you not sense me approach? Can not vampires smell the person of an elf when they are near?"

I nodded then narrowed my eyes in confusion as well. After a thought or two, I replied, "Eyy pwro – (then removed the hand from my mouth) – I probably have gotten so use to your smell I'm not alerted by your presence if my mind is somewhere else."

And then I shrugged. Same stuff happened with Jacob – which was a relief since it was murder trying to get over dog smell.

Nodding in understanding, Legolas then stared back at me.

"So…umm," I started biting my lip, not really use to this sort of proximity to the elf without hostile feelings burning through my skin (my skin was getting hot but that must have been from the shock he gave me earlier…I promise...so don't go where I know your mind wants to go), "What did you ask?"

Without seeming at all agitating by the fact that he was only about a foot away from me (it did help that this guy was easily 6'3 and I dwarfed – not offense to present company – him with my 5'4), Legolas said, "I wished to know if you were mentioning the creature to Aragorn."

Creature? As in the resonant heartbeat 'thumping' under the pool only yards away from us?

Nodding, I asked, "Yeah. How'd you know about it?"

Usually my ears weren't good at picking up undersea noises, but they were especially tuned to heartbeats. I knew that elves held superior hearing to humans but I still didn't know where it stood next to vamp sonic ears.

"I have been standing on the branches of one of the trees," he answered as if explaining as normal subject such as why he preferred Mac 'n Cheese over liverwurst, "The vibrations of all surrounding occurrences move into the roots of the trees."

"You could feel its heartbeat?...From a tree?"

All right. That would be a little impressive.

And of course he nodded like it was no big deal. Sure, like everyone knew if you stood on a tree long enough you'll start getting the bass sounds of the surrounding life. Common knowledge to everyone.

"Cool," I shrugged then quickly walked away to sit beside wolf-Jacob. This conversation was making me kind of uncomfortable, since I tended to prefer the ignoring part of me and Legolas' relationship.

Before I could sit, though, two different things occurred.

One, I heard Aragorn, Boromir, Merry, Pippin, and Legolas' heartbeats speed up at the sound of water moving; this accompanied by "Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump!" picking up pace.

While I probably should have considered the first occurrence a tad more important, it got pushed to the sidelines when the sound of moving rock came from behind. Whipping around, I watched two rock doors slid apart to reveal the opening to the mountain.

Booya! Maybe Gandalf as a leader wasn't a total loss.

Quickly picking up our junk fast, everyone wanting to get very far away from the water and whatever was housed in it, we started making our way through the rock doors. As I slung over my backpack, I gave wolf-Jacob a kick in the stomach to wake his lazy butt up.

Whimpering a little at the wakeup call, my brother opened his giant mouth wide to yawn and stretched out his twelve plus foot long body to get rid of the muscle spasms. I only shook my head and order him to move it before we shut him out. Snapping at my ankles a little, Jacob sprung onto his feet and trailed after me.

Walking into the pitch-black doorway, my eyes went straight to night vision with the loss of any sort of light.

Oh my gosh, that smell!

The smell of decaying flesh and old bones. The smell of death.

Slamming my hand to my nose again, I stumbled back into wolf-Jacob a little. My brother stopped too and nuzzled his large nostrils into my cloak to keep out the disgusting odor.

"Cripes, almighty?" I yelled, literally ceasing all breathing to keep out the stench that perfumed the entire cave. Had I the tears, my eyes would definitely have watered.

"What is it?" Sam asked beside me, looking worried.

"The smell," I gulped through my mouth, "It smells like death."

Unfortunately, only Sam and Frodo stopped walking since everyone else was listening to Gimli go on to Legolas about the hospitality of his cousin Balin.

"Gandalf!" Frodo called up over to his friend, wanting to get the wizard's attention about my belief that the cave smelt of corpses.

Ahead of us, Gandalf wooden staff lit up somehow to light the area. Sure enough, the shapes of small bodies my night vision sighted, fleshed out with the light. Littered all around on the stone ground and stairs going up were bodies of the aging dead.

Finally, now that everyone else was clued in, the group stopped trudging forward.

"This is no mine," Boromir said, gazing around in shock, "It's a tomb."

Merry and Pippin yelped at the corpse they almost stepped on. Wolf-Jacob and I started backing away, really wanting to get away from the stench of dead dwarf. A part of me spared energy to feel bad for Gimli, who had started yelling in anguish.

If this sight was any indicator, chances were his cousin wasn't fairing all that well.

In front of me, Legolas dropped down to one of the bodies and pulled out an arrow. Examining its make for a moment, he turned to Aragorn and said, "Goblins," then rose to his feet while pulling out one of his own arrows to arm his bow.

Following their companion's move, Aragorn and Boromir both took hands to the hilts of their swords.

"No one around here has a pulse, guys," I took my hand off my mouth and nose for a moment to assure them of the lack of threat from the bodies, "Can we please just go?"

The sooner we exited this funhouse of death…the better.

"She is right," Boromir stated, "We make for the Gap of Rohan (okay…seriously, was this guy drunk the night we had our heart-to-heart?...insisting on going toward Gondor, even when the other two options suck, wouldn't win you any brownie points, buddy)…We never should have come here (oh good, now let's throw the bad decisions of certain leaders back in their faces…I'm starting to see why the captain was having popularity issues)…Now get out of here. Get out!"

Stepping further and further back, my sorry self leading the way, the hobbits stood right in front of me all huddled together in a fearful bunch.

Maybe it was the supremely awful stench rotting my brain cells or maybe it was too much focus on getting out of the cave. Whatever dulled my frontal lobe of a brain halted the mental process when I saw a grey snake-like thing slither passed in-between my legs and grab hold of Frodo's ankle.

Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump!

Oh, crap.

"Fro-" I started but got cut short when a sudden pressure wrapped around my waste.

Whosh!

And up went my feet from the ground. Following my body, all of which was carried away in the matter of seconds by something wet clamped around me with a solid grip.

"Help!"

"Frodo!"

"Bella!"

_Growl_! followed by lots of barking and roaring.

"Let go!"

"Get off of him!"

"Miss Bella!"

Personally, I didn't shout out anything. Too busy being waved around in the air like a rattle. Whatever had me also had Frodo, whom I was more worried for than myself. Apparently this thing's plan was to either suffocate or drown me and Frodo; unfortunately, that sort of plan only works for creatures that needed to breath.

"Aragorn!"

Shoot! Did it have Aragorn too? Arwen was gonna get pissed.

Settling my mind, despite my head getting waved back and forth violently, I grabbed hold of the thing around my waste. My fingers slipped a little over its slimy skin before I grasped it tightly. Just as I dug my fingers into its muscle, the creature gave a great lurk and dived further into the water.

Instantly, I closed my eyes right as icy cold water splashed my head and encased me as I was drug under the pool's surface.

Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump!

Knowing whatever had me meant to eat me very soon, I gripped its arm-thingy so tightly my hands became incase with its innards and I felt a warm substance float out into the water.

Blood and muscle most likely.

With a hard pull from both hands, I started tearing its arm apart. I felt the grip let go, but any success was for not when the creature thrust forward, out of the water again. Arms and all.

Splashing past the water's surface, my ears became overwhelmed with sounds of crashing waves, racing heartbeats from creatures of all kinds, and shouts from the shore. In the air around me, I heard Frodo yelling out for help.

Crap! Whatever this pain in the rear was, it still had Frodo.

Hanging upside down and still getting lurched to and fro enough to make someone vomit, I pulled again at my binds and heard the tear of flesh and muscle. Before I could fathom what to do once I got free, gravity took hold and I felt myself drop into open air.

Below were only water and a hobbit-munching beast of epic proportions.

Lucky me.

I admit. At the point where I fell headfirst, I starting yelling.

Air _whooshed_ past my ears, but ceased the moment the beast caught me again by one of my legs before I hit the water.

"Umph," I grunted then got swung and rattled again.

Around me Frodo, also still a prison in mid-air, was screaming. Below us, I got a quick view of Boromir and Aragorn swooshing their swords at the things arm/tentacles. Behind us, I heard the rest yelling and roaring (that part would be wolf-Jacob).

All this dimmed in comparison when the beast emerged its ugly-as-hell head. No joke, this thing had more eyes than I could count and pretty much resembled a black skull with a full mouth of fangs.

Rightly so, Frodo started screaming even louder when the skull-beast opened its huge mouth and roared in anticipation for lunch.

Not ready to die…or see Frodo die. And most certainly not from the digestive juices of a demon-octopus…I opened my mouth and extracted my own set of fangs.

Reaching up, I grabbed at the tentacle wrapped around my ankle and sung my teeth into the flesh.

Disgusting as sin, salty warm blood flowed into my mouth as I ripped at the muscle to the point of detaching it from the rest of the octopus.

I head a loud roar (not from my brother) and dropped once again to the earth.

Splash! Water surrounded me again as I fell into the pool. Not wasting another moment, I swam to the surface and started toward the shore where the hobbits and Gimli were half yelling in anguish for Frodo - half cheering me on.

In one last attempt to regain his dinner, a tentacle grabbed one of my arms as I raised it to stroke. With fangs still extracted, I bent forward and tore it to shreds. Another gulp of fishy-tasting blood and juices unintentionally running down my throat. Disgusting.

As if burned to the touch, the demon-octopus pulled its arm back and allowed me to finish swimming to shore.

On my hands and knees on the pebble shore, dripping wet from the unforeseen swim in the abysmal pool of hell, I stared up at the hobbits and Gimli. "Frodo?" I asked, coughing out blood without a care.

"Aragorn," Sam pointed past us.

"Into the mine!" Gandalf yelled to the group, leading the way in running frantically for our lives back into the stinking cave of death.

Wolf-Jacob looked at me but didn't come to help since it wasn't needed. Snapping his jaws at the hobbits, my brother shepherded the smalls ones away in hast. Climbing to my feet and feeling as if I was forgetting something that couldn't come to mind, I watched Aragorn race past me with Frodo in his arms.

Thank God.

"Come!" Boromir grabbed my arm and dragged me in a run after the rest.

What was I forgetting?

"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled it front of us.

Whipping my head behind, I saw His Royal Highness back away, still shooting off arrows, as the beast climbed its monstrous body out of the pool, tentacles punching out at the sides of the cave, only feet behind us.

Not minding the smell as much, probably since I was too focused on everyone getting the heck away from the monster still pursuing us on dry land (not to mention, the stomach-churning taste of its blood and guts still very evident in my mouth), I allowed Boromir to pull me deeper and deeper into the cave.

To punish us for taking away its meal of hobbit and she-vamp, the beast slammed into the mountain walls to the point of causing the entrance to come crashing into a cave-in.

Crash!

Then…nothing but silence.

Well…silence except for nine people and one wolf hyperventilating, and hearts beating like the tapping of loud, scampering mice feet.

After about twenty minutes of everyone peeing their pants out of stress in pitch darkness, Gandalf thought it best to pip up in a speech of encouragement.

"We have but one choice (Quite and go home?)," he said then a crystal on the end of his wooden staff lit up again like before, "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guards. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the earth."

Well done, Gandalf. Rousing words as always.

Boromir finally let go of my arm, and we began walking in a slow train down the dark chamber into the mountain.

"Bella," Aragorn said from behind, taking up the rear position of our line again, "Where is your pack?"

Reaching back to feel, my hands only touched the clothe of my wet cloak.

That's why I felt different!...other than the sopping wet part of course.

But then where was my pack?

"Last I had it…" I muttered aloud to myself. Last I had it…

…was when the sea creature from the black lagoon decided I was on tonight's menu.

"Aw, crap!" I moaned and hung my head.

"Silence!" Gandalf half-whispered-half-shouted back at me with a glare, "Our presence must go unnoticed."

Knowing he was right, I bit my tongue at a response.

"What was in it?" Aragorn whispered to me once he walked up to my side.

I sighed, "Nothing all that important…except all of Jacob's shirts and pants."

Ahead of us, among the hobbits, my brothers head shot up and his ears pointed. Twisting his giant, fur head to stare back at me, I only shrugged in response.

Sorry, buddy. Hope you like wolf-you, because nudity it pretty much your only option until we find a retail shop.

Watching our exchange, Frodo stared back at me for a moment. "Bella," he said to me with his small face twisted, as if trying not to grimace and appearing a little embarrassed.

"Yeah?"

"You have black stuff on your chin and in your teeth."

Wiping at my face with a sleeve, I looked at the black stain on my tunic and realized that the disgusting, salty blood I'd been forced to swallow was covered all over my face and stained in my teeth.

Well didn't that just cap off this entire day as posi-fricken-tively perfect.

Pros – fricken –tively perfect, I tell ya.

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_AN: Happy New Years everyone! Hope 2011 will be as blessed a year as 2010 was for you. To celebrate, I give you another chapter. Hope you enjoyed all the action and adventure like a promised. The next chapter might lack in action, but I wrote in a couple Legolas-Bella scenes to make up for it. Be kind and review._


	12. Only idiots have Moria themed weddings

_Disclaimer: Only in certain, very well monitored realms, should the following disclaimer take place…Stephenie Meyer and J.R.R. Tolkien own their parts of this story._

_**Author's Note: Happy 100**__**th**__** Review everyone! I know by the time this goes up, the reviews will probably be passed 100…but I started up this chapter on the morning I saw that b-e-a-utiful number on my FF account. Thank you everyone who has contributed your thoughts, opinions, and encouraging words. You are all my muses. Also, I wish to be a special thanks to Deep and Devastating, who was kind enough to write about this story in a blog she contributes to. All I care about is that a few of you are actually enjoying this story. Your thoughts really do keep me on track. Please enjoy this next chapter, which I am dedicating to all my readers that have reviewed my story!

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Chapter 11: (If Oprah was part of this chapter) You get a free cave of death!...You get a free cave of death!...Everybody gets free caves of death!

There exists this psychological rehabilitation treatment for phobias.

It's called 'flooding'.

Now, in my own non-psychological expertise opinion, the word 'flooding' should have been the first giveaway that maybe this wasn't the best way to cure extreme fears. After all, what do people think about when they hear 'flooding'?

Death? Water? Noah? A somewhat crappy rendition of the book of Genesis put into musical formatting that I regretted paying twenty bucks to go see (nothing against the book of Genesis, but some things are not meant to be made into musicals).

Anywho, when I heard such a treatment existed for phobias in which the doctor gives the patient super high exposure of their fear – in hopes of _breaking _that fear – I didn't exactly hop on the flooding-bandwagon. Sorry, but if someone is afraid of…oh say, fire...my first inclination is not to throw them in the middle of a fiery pit and wait for them to stand up and say, "Thanks! I'm over my fear now."

Really consider this treatment and you have to admit…one sick puppy had to have thought it up.

So what the heck does flooding have to do with Moria (where we have been walking - aimlessly, I think - through for the past eight months it seems…though really only a couple days)?

Well, ever since we started down, beneath the crust of the earth, I've watched almost all of our company go through a certain type of the flooding treatment I think.

The hobbits (probably afraid of the dark, caves, plummeting into a dark pit of death, and rock moss more now than ever before) kept jumping at any noise and swearing they saw goblins or orcs in the distance. The noise most likely came from the loose rocks under their feet since the poor little dears hadn't stopped quivering since the creature from Satan's Sea World barricaded us in this endless cavern.

Every time hobbits whispered they saw something, Gimli always demanded to know where and would search out in earnest, hoping to catch a glimpse of a dwarf. To spare his pride, I never voiced or showed my concern for Gimli, yet the way he'd desperately hold on to the possibility that his cousin was still alive – despite the carnage at the entrance (which were all dead dwarfs shish-kabobed with goblin arrows) – was breaking my heart each time he insisted he too saw something and pleaded Aragorn to send a small party in that direction.

As for our fearless, human leader, Aragorn was having a hard time leaving the anguish off his face whenever he had to refuse his companion. Between quieting a mourning dwarf and calming a herd of jostled hobbits, I was far from envying Aragorn of his duties as the stoic, focused, put-together example for everyone else.

Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas all shared a common phobia that stemmed from their shared discomfort at being underground for such a long period of time. Gimli, other than the vain hope of finding Balin not dead, was otherwise among his element in Moria. As the long hours rolled by, I noted as the humans and elf's hearts kept a consistent stressed pace and their faces fell paler and paler with the continued absence of open air and sunlight.

Because Jacob was still majorely pissed at me for loosing his clothes (apparently he had _so_ many parties to attend as a human while in Moria), his anger plugged-up any fear that might have risen to the surface.

All in all, Gandalf also appeared fine to begin with, which was good to have him as the leader since most everyone else's phobia-attacks started acting up towards the end of the first day. Once the leader goes down, it never takes much else to bring the whole house of cards down with him. So, as I was saying, Gandalf was fine and dandy and doing his leader-ing thing until about an hour before when he abruptly stopped after we all climbed a mile high, very vertical staircase (Jake had to go last since his elongated train of a body climbed as slow as molasses).

"I have no memory of this place," the wizard whispered, eyes searching the three doorways before us.

Biting my tongue at a jab about old age (my 500 year old self had no place to talk) and senile minds, I was silent and very pleased when Aragorn quickly suggested we take this opportunity to rest and regain strength. As soon as we all got settled, I understood his urgency to take a break when everyone, save for wolf-Jake and myself, pulled out their pipes and turned to their nicotine addictions to take edge off this whole cave experience.

For once in my life, I was grateful to the heavy fumes of roasting tobacco leaf. While I never felt fear of an approaching threat (any heartbeat present made itself very known in these echoing caves), the dank, dark overall feel of Moria wasn't doing a thing for me. To feel a little sorry for myself, and due to lack of any conversation since Gandalf demanded we only speak when necessary, I mulled on the sad pathetic-ness of my current state. The dampness of the cave air was slowing up the normal time it would have taken for my clothes to dry, so I was walking around in a soaked cloaked and squishy boots. My hair was falling out of the braid concoction Tinu had assembled, and the grotesque taste of demonic octopus was still very present in my mouth.

And the smell…cripes, that by far was the worst. Almost everyone smelled of swamp and dead fish and stress and fear and tiredness (those final three do emit smells to the trained, supernatural nose). The Fellowship's straying odors along with earth and lingering scents of dead this and that (probably dwarf and goblin, though we hadn't see any other corpses…yet) were beginning to drown me in their stifling presence.

So yes, when Gandalf's age started catching up with his mind and Aragorn suggested we take a breather, no one objected in the least.

Dropping down beside Boromir, I breathed deeply in the forest-like smells of Middle Earth leaf and pipe and then dropped my head to my scrunched up knees to shut my eyes and block out as much of Moria as possible.

Nudging my shoulder with his, Boromir said softly after tasting his smoke for a moment, "You did well back there, milady."

Snorting, I opened my eyes and turned my head to face up to his fine, golden one, "Yeah right. In case you weren't paying attention, Frodo got jostled around like a freakin baby toy and almost became a smudge in between a monster's canines, because I was too busy being a sissy about the smell of dwarf guts. Now we're all stuck in a tunnel without a light at the end of it, and the only wizard we brought along forgot where the heck we are (thought I heard the sound of an insulted "huff" from behind us where Gandalf was sitting). I'd say you should seriously reevaluate your definition of a job well done."

Not wanting any more interruption to my little pity party, I buried my head in my legs again. Sighing a little (I could hear the smile on his lips though), Boromir only patted my back a little and said, "Nevertheless, a job well done, Bella."

In reality, I knew the whole beast from the black lagoon incident wasn't completely my fault. Aragorn knew about the threat as well, and a bunch of collaborating factors took place in a very short amount of time…all creating the perfect opportunity for that "thing" to strike out at Frodo and I.

Because I honestly hadn't allowed my mind to fad into that sleep-like nothingness since Imladris, while the hobbits discussed their evident problem of hunger, and Gimli bragged to his fellow warriors about Moria's wealth of mithril (definition of mithril:_ sparkly metal substance that apparently is primo armor material and very expensive…_side note: Balin got bucket loads of cash from Moria's abundance in mithril – apparently didn't think to use it for his army though – and Frodo's uncle Bilbo was given a chain-mail shirt made of mithril – "a kingly gift!" according to Gimli)…moving on, so as all the guys sat around and talked amongst themselves, I decided to doze off to the murmurs of their voices and the soft, frank air of their smoke.

"Gggtthhh…mmmiiinnne. The hobbitedness gotttsss mmmyyyy pthrecioussss."

In a snap, my muscles tensed up and my mind drove above its fogginess. Sitting up, I listened and again that soft, throaty purr echoed from a direction far off from where we camped. At my other side from Boromir, sitting on a ledge, Frodo suddenly turned and faced the direction of the noise. Poising his usual frightened shock reaction to anything unexpected, the hobbit stumbled back a bit. Hopping to my feet, I walked over and grabbed his arm before the tiny man could crawl away.

Snapping his arm back the moment I touched it, Frodo looked over with his wide blue eyes and expressed relief when he saw who grabbed at him.

"Bella," he breathed.

"What did you see?" I whispered calmly, not wanting to jolt his small heart into cardiac arrest.

"Something…I do not know what…Look! It is over there," he pointed out into the great drop of the mine, toward a maze of poorly built ladders.

Cautiously stepping to the very edge of the ledge, I pierced my gaze through the gray shadows of the tunnels of rock.

Sure enough, climbing along one of the ladders was a small spider-like creature with gray skin. Its back was turned to Frodo and I so I couldn't see its face, and the emitting stench of our unwashed company along with the pipe smoke forswore any hope of catching the creature's scent from where I stood. Focusing out my hearing toward the direction of the ladders, I caught the thumping of a heartbeat. Not surprising, due to its size, the echo of the heart suggested it was similar to one of the hobbits' hearts.

"What the heck-" I started to remark.

"I must tell Gandalf!" Frodo announced and scampered away to tell his wizard friend of this latest development.

Though Gandalf was a better shot at gaining details about this new creature, I could have told Frodo from simple observation that whatever it was…it alone wasn't a threat. Even from the dim of the mine and the length of distance, the sickly thin, undernourished state of this being was obvious to a keen eye. Still, informing our magic wielding leader was for the best. Perhaps this was a spy goblins ordered to follow us and gain our position and number for a future blitz attack.

While still staring down at the creature and watching as it lifted its head to the side and flash eyes at me, I listened as the smell of woodland elf approached me from behind.

"What has bothered Master Frodo?" Legolas asked softly with only interest embedded in his words.

Not turning to face the prince (that would be a way, _way_ too close encounter), I mirrored Frodo and pointed out to the ladder the creature was scrambling up now that it noticed the attention I was giving. "Look over there," I commanded.

Placing a hand to the bolder at our right, Legolas leaned over from behind me and gazed above my shoulder. Once again placing himself in very close quarters of my personal space (apparently the lose of this space biologically resulted in a scratchy throat, because my swallow was beginning to feel like a rubbing against sandpaper).

The sound of his rising heartbeat informed me the elf saw the little creature as well just before it disappeared into a pitch-dark tunnel going away from this mine.

"Was that a goblin?" I asked, wanting to say something since silence in this particular lack of space would mean a form of personal hell. Besides, my knowledge of goblins reached as far as the animated movie The Princess and the Goblin, which my second grade class watched on the last day of school to celebrate the end of the year. Despite this very informative insight to the world of goblins and their problems with salivary glands and lusting after underage blonds, I didn't feel it best to rely on that information alone if I was going to encounter an army of Middle Earth goblins with intent to kill them.

"No," Legolas answered, shifting his weight back now that the creature was out of sight (perhaps my own salivary glands would start remembering themselves), "Goblins are a little larger and wear more clothing generally. Also their skin is a pale green. Much similar to frog skin."

"Oh," I nodded, still not turning around since this proximity would still put me way to close too his chest, "…Then what the heck was that?"

Before His Royal Highness could answer though, Gandalf's mental light bulb got replaced and he announced which of the three doors held the grand prize. Way too uncomfortable at this new found proximity (more like lack-of) between my loathed ally/enemy, I didn't even bother arguing when Gandalf claimed he was depending on the better smell of the passage way we were to go down (not that I would ever underestimate the trusted ability of a nose). Without making it too obvious, as well as avoiding pushing him off the ledge, I bent around awkwardly and maneuvered past Legolas (without touching him - score one for the blood sucker!) and leapt up to the passage way (stopping quickly before I slammed the old wizard down a steep staircase) to get as far away from certain persons – cough, elf, cough - as possible without abandoning the entire Fellowship.

Traveling down the staircase in our usual line, we must have gotten within half a mile of the earth's core by the time we hit level ground again.

Without warning, Gandalf slowed his roll to a halt. Out of habit, I sniffed the area and again found nothing remarking a threat.

Why the stop?

"Let me risk a little more light," the wizard raised his wooden staff and out reached brightening white light from the crystal situated at the top. Flickering to greater and greater strengths, the crystal's magic light pored over ahead of us and ignited a clear visual of exactly where we stood.

Gimli gasped.

Aragon breathed in and forgot the other part of the respiratory process.

Wolf-Jake ceased panting.

My eyes grew a few times wider.

This was no mere mine.

"Behold," Gandalf spoke to his company (ever one of us speechless and struck stone still), "the great realm and the Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."

The sight before us went on forever with a ceiling held up by stone pillars that I couldn't even begin to measure in height and width.

Mithril done Gimli's cousin good.

"There's an eye-opener and no mistake," Sam worded his and our shared astonished admiration for the dwarf city.

In my long years, I'd seen a good many great things built by men: the Coliseum of Rome (before it collapsed about two hundred and fifty years ago during World War IV), the Taj Mahal, the Forbidden City (even after the second great Chinese Empire reclaimed it as a sacred capital), Karnack Temple, the Palace of Parliament in Bucharest, and the Lourve Palace in Paris to name a number of them.

While this realm – this giant hall of stone – didn't compare in architectural exception or square space area, there was something about it. About it being so far underground, built by dwarves (probably with only the most primeval of tools) of all things, and in a midst of rickety, dank mines. Maybe it all came down to the timing. After days of traveling through moss, swamp, and cold bolder, to come upon this glorious site of eloquence amongst dull darkness. These things and things too magical and raw to name easily placed the realm of Dwarrowdelf as the most amazing manmade sight my eyes had ever beheld.

When I finally regained my voice and could pull my eyes away from the almighty hall of pillars, I placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder and said with grin, "For what it's worth, Gimli, I am thoroughly impressed with your cousin."

His misting eyes of unadulterated pride were reply enough.

As well guessed, no one had a problem not speaking as we walking in silent reverence through the staggering city realm. What I personally found amusing to pass the time was watching Legolas try not to seem like this piece of dwarfish engineering awesomeness literally blew his mind to the Shire and back. He caught me staring at his tightly guarded facial expressions more than once. I simply sent him a smirk and looked away in delightful excitement in how Gimli and I could hold this against His Majesty in vocal sparing matches to come.

The Fellowship's considerably more positive and peaceful mood sadly crumbled into little tiny bacon bits when Gimli caught sight of an open doorway with light coming through. Without stopping to consider others' thoughts and opinions on the matter – or maybe ask for backup just in case he was barging into a goblin love fest (truthfully, I didn't sense any heartbeats coming from inside the room – but Gimli didn't know that!) – the dwarf started sprinting top speed over to the doors.

A second after Gandalf shouted at him to stop, I vamp-sped in the direction of the dwarf just in case all the tobacco and underground air had suppressed my senses any and he too got shish-kabobed by arrows. Blurring past Gimli and entering the room first, I halted and quickly took in the room. Other than the beam of natural light coming in from a single high up window, the room resembled the entrance to Moria almost to a tee.

Must have been all the smelly, dwarf corpses lying about.

Assured that Gimli (who trotted in soon after me) and I were the only two living things in the room, I turned and watched my companion fall to his knees before the stone coffin built in the center of the room.

Then, shockers of all shock, before my eyes, Gimli - the dwarf warrior that made S.W.A.T. teams look like junior high cheerleading squads – started weeping in agony over the tomb monument. Too sensitive about harming Gimli's pride in this display of emotional weakness and caught way off guard to do anything, I stood my ground watched as the rest of the Fellowship piled into the room.

Gandalf walked passed me and peered over the tomb. Following his movements with my eyes, I became aware that there were markings carved into the coffin arranged as if they were letters. Because of the little time I spent in Imladris' libraries, I knew it wasn't elvish.

"'Here lies Balin'," Gandalf read slowly and with deepening pains (at hearing the marking did actually spell out words, I assumed it was in some sort of dwarf language), "'son of Fundin, Lord of Moria'."

Oh, crap.

Not being able to help it, I felt my chest constrict again as a metaphorical heart in it broke. Gazing over at the anguished dwarf, I couldn't help but become overcome with sadness and anger for a moment.

For days we all watched as a fellow warrior searched ferociously for signs of his family, keeping up vain hope that he would be rejoined with his cousin. Yeah…back in my world, cousins weren't always that close a lot of the time. In Middle Earth, though, I'd bet family was a heck of a more loaded word than the holiday obligations of meet-and-greet my version of society took it as.

"He is dead then," Gandalf said, taking off his pointy grey hat in respect for the fallen, "It is as I feared."

That's when I started staring at the wizard and realized that none of this, not the corpses in the entrance, the lack of miners in the mines, Balin's tomb - none of this drew an inch of surprise from Gandalf in all the time we'd been in Moria. In the beginning, I supposed the octopus-demon aftershock kept me from noticing it, but now in retrospect, my brain must have nailed it down to Gandalf's bearing a pessimistic view of life. Either way, all this really bad crap that'd been happening hadn't jostled the wizard at all…as if he went into Moria knowing it all was likely to occur.

Leaving Gimli to be comforted by Boromir (self-appointed shoulder-to-cry-on of our group…wonder if all Gondor men are as sensitive as him?), I quietly walked over to Gandalf and whispered to him (trying really hard not to sound accusing, mind you), "You already knew this place was a death trap, didn't you?"

Instead of defensive, hard eyes, Gandalf looked down at me with naked pity and sorrow. Clearly he enjoyed seeing Gimli in pain as much as the rest of us did. "I knew that if the dwarves of this realm and Lord Balin were not wise, they would surely be fated to come upon a great many foul things that make the deep places of the earth their home," he replied back quietly, neither of us wishing to upset any present company with what we said.

"Then why didn't you warn us?"

"I suppose I wished to hope, Isabella," he said so easily I expected it to come with a shrug, "I do not like walking through my days without hope. There is no freedom in that."

Against the sad, angry animal in me that wanted to find a guilty party and lash out, I couldn't help but agree with the wizard. It was right of us not to dash Gimli's hope of finding Balin alive and well. Still, it didn't stop the ballooning sorrow growing larger in my chest, making me wish I had some tears to spare for Gimli's grief.

Losing family usually seemed more bearable with there were others present to cry with you.

Turning from me, Gandalf bent down to the dwarf skeleton seated against Balin's tomb and carefully took the giant book encompassed in its bony arms.

I took a step away from the wizard and found my legs and back hit a hot, soft body. Reaching behind me, I stroked Jacob's fur and turned my head so the side of my face could bury into his horizontal torso. My brother rotated his giant head around and looked at me with worried eyes.

All the crap about his clothes was far behind us and I was happy for it.

Whining softly in concern, Jacob's tummy vibrated and I closed my eyes for a minute and breathed in his sent to enjoy a universe where we weren't underground in a room full of maimed bodies and bone dust. Opening them again, I smiled sadly to my brother and gently pushed off him then gave a few more strokes through his fur to let him know I was okay.

Outwardly I was okay…inside though, was an aching cry to get the heck out of Moria. I'd had my fill of dwarf hospitality for a lifetime or ten.

"'They have taken the bridge and the second hall,'" Gandalf's slow words carried through the room and drew everyone's attention. Even Gimli ceased his weeping to listen as the grey wizard read from the writings of a dead dwarf. "'We have barred the gates…but cannot hold them for long.'"

I knew what he was reading…and it sickened me further to the core. In Gandalf's hands was the Middle Earth dwarf's version of a political or military journal, created to record the important actions and circumstances of a powerful force in order to be reviewed at a later date. Usually these journals read with boring, straightforward facts such as dates, locations, and numbers of personal and supplies. What Gandalf read, though, sounded more like the growing despair of brave men that knew death was readying its strike.

"'The ground shakes…drums…drums…deep. We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark…We cannot get out…They are coming.'"

It was like a passage from an old comic series my dad read called Creepy. Don't ask me why Charlie, as down to earth as they come by, was interested in a horror comic book when he was-

_Bang! _

Heads shot around to the bolt of noise coming from behind. In the queer tenseness of the moment (with the final words of a dead person being read aloud and all that nonsense that – if you consider it – we _really_ could have done without), the clanging echoes jolted me into battle mode and I released my fangs in gut reaction, ready to fight.

Pippin. Poor, poor Peregrin Took.

_Sheeeesssssshhhhhhhhh! _

Down dropped yards of metal chains.

_Whosh!_

From our sight went the skeleton corpse of some poor fool whose last moments were spent seated on the tip of a well.

_Bang!_ _Bang!_ _Bang!_ A thousand more "_Bangs!_" that grew in echoes.

Finally, the encore of this sad performance was the bucket that the dead shmuck had been holding for whatever reason.

And in the matter of a few seconds, three days work of traveling in silence and thudding heartbeats of fear. Every one of us torn through and scratched out on the inside by stress and anxiety of this dark, lifeless underground graveyard, all moving forward with the goal of reaching the other side unseen and unheard. Pippin, the youngest of the hobbits, had managed to destroy the efforts of the entire Fellowship in under a minute.

Out of pure lunacy at the situation, hardly believing what I just witnessed, emotions flaming about in my chest and head since we started through Moria all came to a sharp end leaving only a sick sort of angry, despairing humor.

I explain myself and my very unsteady emotional state so you may understand why, after the chain and the body and the bucket fell into the well, thus alarming anyone within a hundred miles of our presence...why I started giggling uncontrollably.

Snorting, I couldn't bear to look at Pippin's adorable mug of shame or Gandalf's towering posture of loathing at the hobbit for fear I might match the _Bangs _before with loud laughter. Instead, to muffle my unprofessional response, I slammed my head into Jake's fur and snorted and giggled until I lost control of my shoulders shaking and chest hyperventilating.

Later on I would blame this episode entirely on Moria…which I promised myself about two hours into it, I would never return should we get out.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf spat, not bothering with volume anymore, "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity."

Snort! More giggling.

I buried my head as deep into Jacob as it would go without harming his ribs.

As the stress of this particular chapter of our quest slowly drained with the warring away of humorless laughter, my ears perked at a sound completely new.

The sound of drums.

Pulling away from Jacob, I reached out for the noise and found it growing louder. At the steady growth, there accompanied another noise. A kind of shriek I'd never heard before.

"Do you hear that?" I asked, wondering if it was loud enough yet for non-vamp ears and trying to place the sounds' origins, which was particularly hard since we were inside a bunch of caves.

"Your laughter?" Legolas asked sharply.

Honestly, I didn't blame him for reprimanding my reaction to Pip's mishap. If one of my men had pulled a stunt like that back home, he/she'd be out of a job and perhaps blacklisted from other special intelligence work before you could yell "tickle fight!"

"No," I waved the elf off, wanting him to concentrate since his hearing was closest in sensitivity to vampire's ability, "Listen."

In no time, my comrades all stiffened at the unmistakable sound of drums and shrieks, both growing louder and louder as they closed in towards us audibly. In a faint undertone, I began to notice another sort of rhythmic thumping.

A heartbeat. Lots and lots of heartbeats. An army of heartbeats.

"Gandalf," I started to address our leader to let him in on the likelihood of our Fellowship of eleven quickly becoming outnumbered when a wall of stench hit my nose like a punch.

Grasping my nose again, I bent over at feeling sick by the overpowering odor. Dwarf corpses aged to dust and octopus-demon guts combined barely hit the rector scale of what I smelled approaching us.

"What is it, Isabella?" the wizard took notice of my reaction and stepped towards me in some concern and definite need to know what I could sense.

"Frodo!" Sam gasp demanded we all take notice that Frodo's hip blade was glowing blue (mental note: ask about glowing weaponry later on when the stench of filth and hot, sticky garbage and manure aren't polluting the air).

Shrieks grew louder and sailed into Balin's tomb room through the open thin wooden doors that separated us from the great realm. Standing erect, I forced myself to adapt to the smell of whatever that sad barrier was keeping out. For a moment I concentrated more on the heartbeats and found them too numerous to count.

Yep, an army was headed our way.

Just what this quest needed.

"Orcs!" Legolas announced, obviously able to place the animalistic whimpers and yells to the one Middle Earth species the twins had insisted I kill if I ever came across.

Well this is your lucky day, boys. Too bad you weren't around to see it.

Taking notice that the one barrier between the realm and this room was wide open, Boromir raced over to close the doors.

_Thud_! _Thud_!

With wicked good reflexes, the human man pulled back his head just in time to save it from a pair of arrows now embedded in the flint of a door.

Crap. That meant they were close.

"Get back!" Aragorn switched like a machine to leader-mode and shot orders to the hobbits, "Stay close to Gandalf!"

In seconds the reality of the situations dug beneath everyone's flesh. While Boromir pressed the doors shut, I watched Gandalf herb the hobbits together like a teacher would to small children. Fear played out plainly on their youthful, bright faces, and that expression alone drove a sharp knife of anger through to my being.

This was pure ridiculousness. These hobbits weren't supposed to be here. They were suppose to be back home with ale and gardens and some nice girl (whose name I think was Sandy or Penny or Rosa or something like that) to tease Sam about until a pink blush covered his cute, dimpled face.

Unhinging my fangs again and hissing a little whilst glaring hard at the door, as if the enemy on the other side could see me, I then faced Jacob (his monstrous teeth bared, breathing deep and rough).

"Watch them," I simply put, nodding back at the frightened four huddled together. Their tiny swords at the ready and hearts not at all prepared for what was about to hit.

Growling in a sort of grunt, Jacob (still facing the entrance) backed up to be closer to his young friends.

"They have a cave troll," I heard Boromir inform Aragorn with bitter sarcasm.

Legolas threw forgotten axes and spears to the humans to bar the doors shut, granting us a little more time to prepare before the wave of inescapable battle. Behind me, Gandalf unsheathed his long sword and gave a battle cry that really sounded rather weak in comparison to the rumbling growl Gimli gave once he leapt up to stand aloof on his fallen cousin's grave.

"Let them come," the vengeance-thirsty dwarf demanded; axes ready in his hands. Heart and blood pounding hot and fast in anticipation. "There is still one dwarf yet in Moria, who still draws breath."

Oh yeah, this was personal.

As for myself, you may wonder. Once ordering my brother back, slowly I stepped forward to cover Aragorn's flank, since the fearless-leader was busy with a bow drawn.

"Be ready, Bella," he said, eyes trained on the door as it bulged forward in loud creaks when the orcs slammed at it to open.

I didn't bother to answer Aragorn. You see, as with the majority of battles I head into, I had a plan. It was a simple, basic, logically plan. In fact, the plan itself only amounted into two words:

Nobody dies.

That was it. Simple. Basic. Logical. Nobody (as in nobody I gave a hoot and a half for – a.k.a members of the Fellowship) was going to die here today.

Nobody dies.

Those two words became a mantra in my brain as I licked my tongue over diamond hard, pearly white fangs, moistening their shapes and swallowing the sweet venom overflowing my throat. Reaching over, I filled one of my empty hands with the hilt of the short sword resting at my hip. I didn't twirl it or cut at the air; I simply held it firm in my hand. Tip of the blade pointed at the creaking, shrieking entrance.

Nobody dies. Nobody dies.

Digging my feet into the cold dirt, hunching my stance at the ready. For the first time in three days, since we arrived at that pebbled beach beside the black swamp, I felt very, very calm.

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_AN: Well, my dears. Hope you enjoyed your Christmas season as much as I did. Sadly, tomorrow I return to university and academia. As I said before, I don't write FF during my time at school. Hopefully this chapter will do in tiding you all over until another is posted. Please be patience. I'm not exaggerating when I say it might well be months before another is posted. Until then, please, please, please share your thoughts – good or critical. I'll take it all. Till next time, drink your orange juice and believe in magic daily. _


	13. I'll play Mortal Kombat only as Immortal

_Disclaimer: Here follows the names of those who actually own things – J.R.R. Tolkien and Stephenie Meyer. Here follows the name of the lonesome loser (love Little River Band!) who owns nada – Me. Here follows the story of those combined forces._

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Chapter 12: Did you know that even if a building doesn't call their 13th floor number 13, that floor is still number 13? Hope all you triskaidekaphobiacs who work in skyscrapers and hotels enjoy that tidbit of info…Oh, there's fighting in this chapter…and goblins.

So…yeah…about goblins.

To start with, to say a goblin is ugly is to say the center of the sun (about 36 million degrees Fahrenheit) is warm…or Keith Richards smoked a cigarette once.

Thankfully, the fact that goblins were so ugly was used to my advantage since it made them less sympathetic. Less sympathy on my part meant an easier kill.

I knew this to be true as I apathetically watched Aragorn and Legolas both shoot off two arrows and hit their marks. The dying cries of goblins bellowed shortly from outside the still-barricaded entrance to the room.

I'm sure each of the archery experts would have shot as many goblins (orcs?...gonna have to check with the guys later on as to whether these things were orcs or goblins or some other ugly) as possible. Unfortunately, after Legolas' second shot, the barricade before us was smashed to smithereens…

…and all the nine circles of hell came washing through.

Meaner and sharper than any frog I'd ever seen, the goblins did appear to have sort of reptilian qualities about them. What with the beady, black eyes and sickly, grayish green skin. I didn't get too much time to assess their qualities in appearance though before my side rushed forth with swords drawn and battle cries wailing.

As stated before, this new challenge of killing everything in sight that reminded me of a Disney villain's minion caused a wave of calm over my usually stressed-out self. While in Moria, I'd dealt with fearful hobbits, a personal-space-hogging elf, and a mourning dwarf, all of which I held little to no experience dealing with. This though, battle with an enemy, weapons drawn, blood hot for the kill, this I knew better than the shape of my nose and the melody of my favorite songs.

I held my ground calmly until the last second.

Taking a deep whiff of their scent in the final moments while Aragorn and Legolas held them off with arrows, I found they smelled mostly of a sort of lust (not sexual…the kind you find in predators when they spot a primo target) and wild excitement. Despite their armor and weaponry, I could tell from their smell that these creatures were far from clear-minded and organized to the degree elves and men in battle.

The first one I killed made the mistake of catching eye contact with me. Baring jagged teeth, it hopped in the air and spun around with a sword in hand as if to cut me through in mid-twirl. Easily ducking under the chaotic motion, I sidestepped the goblin when it landed and then plunged my own blade in and out of its neck, barely taking notice of the fountain of black blood pouring out as I went on to the next.

Whatever thoughts or concerns I held before this point fell to meaninglessness as my world formed into a simple picture of shrieks, cries, crashing swords, and the loss of more and more free ground with every appearing orc. As I blocked attacks and cut off various appendages of my attackers, my mind tried to reach out and get a hold on how the others were fairing. Behind me, I heard Jacob roar and tear at the enemy, their own fearful cries hinting that my brother was doing his job splendidly.

A continuous whizzing sound said that Legolas had yet to give up his bow and turn to a blade.

Grabbing at the wrist of an orc about to slam his axe at my temple, I head-butted the creature forcefully to break its forehead (a faint crack marked my mission accomplished) and caught sight of Aragorn swiftly beheading another orc after my own dropped to the rocky floor in deadweight. After ramming my sword in the back of a turned goblin, I tried to quiet the blood pounding in my ears and ignore the stench of spilt blood causing my fangs to salivate with venom (as Jasper taught me, if I wasn't careful about my state of mind staying clear, the vampiric instinct swimming in my blood would take over all rationality…which wouldn't bode well for orc or ally). Post stabilizing my right mind, I did a quick assessment of the room and found all my party alive and fighting (so far so good with the plan) and the enemy greatly dwindled in number.

Perhaps this fight scene wouldn't last as long as I anticipated.

Hooray! Kill a few more orcs and get the heck out of dodge. That's what I call a day's work well done.

Any optimistic thought died out when a clawed hand grabbed nastily at my scalp and brutally pulled it back by the hair roots. Giving a yelp in pain, the overcoming urged to stop holding back heated my brain and drowned out anything else. Trying to not see only red, I lurched out of the goblin/orc's grasp and turned to face it. Before it could move to strike, I grabbed its shoulder and head and pulled the two apart to expose its thumping neck stringed with veins. In a loud growl, I buried my fangs into its neck then pulled them sharply down to rip at the jugular and arteries. Flinging my head back, warm blood dripping down my chin (not as disgusting as demon-octopus but still not one for my regular diet), I watched the orc's black pits of eyes widen in realization that it couldn't breathe without choking on its own blood. I spit black blood back in its face and shoved the dying thing to the ground.

Turning back around and breathing heavily (not out of need, but to slow down my pounding head), I tried again to quiet the raging call inside of me to let loose to my inner desires of blood and dieing heartbeats. That savage animal disappeared when my ears filled with a familiar sound.

Thu-Rump! Thu-Rump!

For a moment, I was dumb struck with the heartbeat.

No way in heaven or hell could that thing have crawled all the way here.

My confusion as to whether Middle Earth aquatic monsters could sprout legs and survive out of water as long as they had a good enough vendetta was put to rest when the ground beneath our feet lurched and the wall before us smashed through with a deafening noise. For a second, we all just stared as the dust cleared and a giant, grey, snarling…thing (most likely evil…some goblin/orc had it attached at a chain…wonder who got the short end of that stick and ended up with chain-duty?) barreled in.

Roaring and moving in awkward thunderous movements, the thing was between trying to find its footing and pulling at its chain. With a mouth agape, all savage instinct before was forgotten as I watched the giant pound and punch the air and walls to escape captivity.

"What the…" I couldn't even finish, too perplexed by whatever this thing was.

What this a goblin and the little ones orcs? Or was this something else?

Perhaps it was what the evil and stupid around here considered a good pet.

"Aahhh!"

The scream pulled me from my thoughts and I arrived back to reality watching Sam yell and leap away just as the…giant thing…threw its giant toy hammer down to smash the hobbit.

Sam!

"Sam!" I yelled and super-sped over to the hobbit as he tried crawling away only to come upon a wall and certain doom. Leaning over, and not giving a thought to his possibly bruised pride at being saved by a female, I scooped up the fattest, quiet tempered hobbit and sped out of there.

I set down Sam and turned when the thing gave another roar just in time to see it bat Boromir through the air like he was a curve ball in the World Series. Screaming in frustration and bubbling fear that perhaps my plan wasn't going to end all that swell, I started towards my fallen friend (slicing the throat of a pretty-as-butt orc clean through before leaping up at vamp-speed) and ended up at lying Boromir's side.

Nobody dies. Nobody dies.

I heard a steady, highly elevated heartbeat beneath the Gondorian armor.

Nobody dies. Plan still successful.

"You okay?" I asked, kneeling down and shaking the captain a little.

Boromir dazzlingly blinked at me a second before his eyes lit up at something past me. "Bella!" he yelled, "Behind-"

_Swoosh_! _Thud_! _Swoosh_! _Thud_!

Whipping around, red pouring into my mind and sight again and fangs ready to dig into a throat, I looked up at two orcs/goblins with shielded heads and hands raised with ridged swords. Before I could even hiss, one fell from the ledge Boromir was bashed onto and the other landed after his friend right before us. Out of its barely exposed neck sprouted the end of an arrow.

Following the path of the arrow through the room, I found Legolas standing on the ledge at the opposite end of the room. His bow raised but empty of ammo, and sapphire eyes staring hard at where the orcs once stood. Finding my eyes, his gaze didn't end their intensity and immediately caused my body to tense.

The elf just saved my life…well, kind of…he _possibly_ saved my life and definitely saved Boromir from exposure to any more sudden attacks.

Did this mean I couldn't glare at him anymore?

At more smashing sounds, we both broke our gazes and watched the giant, evil thingy run amuck and destroy Balin's tomb whilst trying to kill Gimli. I glanced back at Legolas and saw him reload his bow to help the dwarf; realizing that whatever thanks I could give would have to wait until we got well away from goblins, orcs, and...a whatever…I turned around and helped Boromir to his feet and down from the ledge.

"I'm fine," he assured me, though I could hear his right lung give strained, shallower breathes than its partner (tell-tale signs of a few broken ribs), and held up his sword to reenter the fight.

I nodded briefly and squeezed my own small sword. Stepping in behind Boromir to cover his flank, my gazed unconsciously looked over to the ledge again to find a certain blonde. Firing off his arrows left and right (all making their targets), Legolas failed to realize an orc/goblin emerged from its hiding place behind a pillar at his right.

My chest constricted for a second (not going to read into that other than shock of the moment…similar to watching Boromir get battered with a giant, blunt object) and I screamed (with evident terror Jake would tell me later on…though my brother hasn't always been the most honest of werewolves, especially for the sake of seeing my squirm)…anyway, I screamed out, "Legolas! Orc!"

Sharply looking back at me and not his new target, Legolas only caught my eyes for a moment before a blade appeared in his hand. Twirling around, golden hair circling his head oh so gracefully, the elf gave the approaching orc's stomach a clean gutting before stabbing another orc from behind (I think that one was trying to run away) and then twirling again (again with grace and all that…I'd like to see an elf try do something without grace) and slicing the throat of another orc/goblin.

Wow. Three orcs in under five seconds. Color me impressed…but don't expect me to admit it…ever.

Whatever the elf did next was lost in translation as I quickly got busy helping Boromir with a group of five orcs or so.

Nobody dies. Nobody dies.

Slice. Dice. Stab. Bite. Crack a neck. Tear off a shoulder blade.

Do whatever it takes. Nobody dies.

Dancing around to a melody of shrieks and banging shields, Boromir and I floored the opposition in minutes. Only to enjoy our victory for the briefest of moments once I heard Aragorn yell out, "Frodo!" indicating the Ring Bearer may have been in trouble.

'Find Frodo!' my mind screamed, followed by commanding my nose to seek the hobbit out.

Sniffing the air deeply and trying to block out all the screams and noises sailing around, I found most of the hobbit scents coming from the far end of the room, nearer to the wall with the overhead window. For brief moment I saw a small mat of brown curls belonging to the Ring Bearer, before the giant orc pet hunched its massive self in the way of my sight, over Frodo's tiny self, and gave a great roar.

"Frodo!" I screamed and tried to scurry over to help. Inconveniently, a pair of goblins leapt in my way and began their usual fight plan of shriek and wave swords around like maniacs hoping to hit something and kill it.

Drat! There wasn't time for this. Swiftly leaning to the side to avoid one's blade, I righted myself and punched that one squarely in the face. Dazed and pained (wheezing out blood through the hole that was once its nose), it stumbled back while I crossed swords with its partner. Took a whole of three moves to de-arm this one of its weapon-holding ligament. Before the one I punched could stand straight, I grabbed hold of its head and gave the neck a good snap.

"Aaahh!"

Frodo's scream tore through me and I searched to find the hobbit. Lying on his back helplessly, Frodo's heartbeat seemed to be attempting to thump right out of his chest. For good reason…that giant-whatever-from-hell was hovering over him with toy hammer drawn.

Before I could move, a fierce roar broke over the underlining drone of battle. My brother, all wolf, flew through the air from wherever and landed over Frodo. Using his giant body to guard and cover the tiny hobbit, Jacob snarled and roared at the oppressing monster like a shewolf protecting her young. Either too stupid or too brave (I suggest the former) to come up with a better plan, the giant continued to bring its hammer down on Frodo and his protector.

"No!" I screeched just before being slammed to the ground. Rocks and dirt hit my face in sharp pains, and my back suddenly became overcome with pressure as several bodies piled onto me. This pressure followed with continuous stings of swords or other sort of sharp weapons pressed again and again into my fallen backside.

Lifting my head and spitting out dust, I attempted to ignore the uncomfortable film of dirt covering my exposed eyes and making them burn.

Drat again! There wasn't time for this! The giant whatever had my brother and Frodo cornered and these frogs with legs (yes, I'm aware normal frogs possess legs) were trying to penetrate impenetrable vampire skin.

Enough is frickin enough!

Pulling my hands to lay down flat on the ground beside my shoulders, I yelled as my muscles pushed my body up so quickly the orcs/goblins fell off shrieking.

Seriously, didn't these guys have a language or something? All that shrieking sounded the same so I doubted they were words.

Letting go for a second of my restraint, my body heated up to several degrees of blatant, instinctive red as I sped over at top speed and ripped out four filthy, wart covered throats.

Hissing and gulping down the remaining blood in my mouth, I wiped off the remains on my chin and in my eyes with a dirtied sleeve and turned back around to see if Jacob and Frodo were already stains on that ridiculous hammer.

Nope.

In size comparison, my brother looked like a puppy nipping at his master when really Jacob had his teeth and crawls attached deeply to the backside of the giant's thigh. Growling and wiggling around as the monster tried to shake off the werewolf hooked to its leg, wolf-Jacob succeeded in getting the monster to step back from where Frodo was still lying in fearful shock against a corner. In one hard jerk, though, my brother went sailing across the room, hitting his side hard against the remains of Balin's desecrated tomb.

"Jake!" I yelled.

Okay, looking back I wished I'd been more proactive in actual actions and less yelling after everyone when they got hit or thrown ten feet in the air. To be fair on my part, this was the first battle in a long while that my side was actually getting its butt handed to them and in need of medical attention after all was said and done.

One plus of working with vampires…one never needed to pack the bandages and alcohol swabs.

"Ahh-uggh."

A barely audible grunt caused me to look away from Jacob (who was already shaking off the hit) and back at the giant monster.

Oh crap. Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap!

That…whatever! (I demand clarification of species I'm about to fight from this time forth!)…that giant thing was jamming its hammer toy into Frodo. Right through the stomach!

Nobody dies! From crying out loud that was the frickin plan!

In horror, I watched Merry and Pippin leap onto the monster's back, which made the thing fling back and drop its hammer. Frodo fell to the ground, fact-first, and lay still.

As if someone pushed the pause button, everything started going in slow motion as Frodo's body stopped moving altogether

Then someone pushed the fast forward button. The stink of rage and adrenaline overcame my comrades as they all half-blindly fought forward, killing without pause.

'He's dead. You failed,' a thought that reminded me of the sickly deep one that lingered in the empty air when Gandalf taunted me with Sauron's ring that one time dug deep into my cerebellum, quickly followed by a hollow feeling in the stomach and nausea crawling up my throat.

No. Nobody dies. That was the plan.

Jacob's roar broke the air and my brother bounded over and lunged again at the monster, chomping hard at its back, clawing again and again to either keep hold or dig out the life of the beast.

"Frodo!" Sam scream echoed across the room and I watched the hobbit bash orc or goblin after another with a frying pan (again, respectable choice) as he struggled to get to his friend's aid.

Frodo. Lying there, face down, over the stilt of a hammer whose tip was making scrambled eggs of his intestines.

'Maybe he's still alive…maybe he's still slipping away,' my brain voiced in a much kinder (and less evil overlord sounding) tone, 'Maybe I could be there…when he goes. He doesn't have to be alone for…that.'

No one should have to be alone for _that_.

Resolved, I sprang up from where I was kneeling among mangled corpses of the enemy. Speeding over and up to the ledge's corner where Frodo lie, I stopped over his tiny body and slowly bent down. Vomit stung as it climbed further up; not wanting to heave, I muscled it back down with a swallow.

Light breathing indicated my fears that the Ring Bearer still lived, struggling in his final minutes in this world.

What would happen now?

Who would get the ring?

Aragorn? Gandalf? Maybe Sam?

Fingers shaking ever so slightly, I reached down and gently cupped Frodo's neck.

"Frodo?" I called softly, trying not to give sound to the despair wracking in my body, "It's Bella, hon. Can you hear me?"

Cripes, I wanted to cry. He was too young and too innocent to die in a messed up hellhole like this.

Taking holding of his hips as well, I tentatively turned the hobbit over. Mentally preparing for the sight of ruby blood and guts staining his fine, white tunic and those soft blue eyes fading in their light. Seated, I was able to place Frodo mostly on my lap.

When he was fully turned over…I gasped.

His eyes…they stared back up at me in full alter-mode. Fearful and shocked but nonetheless bright with life. His tunic…a couple drops of blood from scratches but that was it. I touched it sensitively, only feeling a smooth hard surface. Without thinking and not believing my touch, I leaned down and smelled his torso.

No trance or scent of gore and blood.

What the heck?

"Bella?"

Up shot my head and I stared back at a slightly confused and very discomforted Frodo. "You're alright?" I asked back, hardly believing the words.

"Frodo!" Aragorn, half-crawling towards us since most of his body weight was piled against the wall. No one could mistake the exhaustion marked on this man's face, only grayed by the fear and sorrow expressed as he stared at the hobbit. Still believing Frodo harmed by the giant's hammer.

"He's fine!" I barked out with a laugh, hardly putting faith in the words as I spoke them.

To prove this point, Frodo started climbing off my lap, no limp or struggle with strength in his movements. Aragorn only gave us both a "What?" look before starting his own examination of Frodo's stomach. Slowly, each member of the Fellowship gathered around the gasping Ring Bearer, relief spiriting each face as they came to understand not all was lost and the guardian of the Ring still lived.

In fact, after a count of everyone, I couldn't help a smile gracing my lips as the entire Fellowship walked away from the battle alive…worse for wear but alive none the less.

"He's alive," Sam breathed in relief, the tears evident on his face and in his voice.

"I'm fine. I'm not hurt," Frodo assured all of us

"How…" Aragorn questioned Frodo, still staring at him like the hobbit would suddenly fall down again dead, "You should be dead (wow, way to look a prize horse in the mouth, buddy). That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

A wild boar? I honestly can't remember the last time someone mentioned a wild boar. Wild boar….yum, that sounded pretty good right then. A good fight always got me in the mood for wild prey.

Anyway, enough about my own stomach.

"Gandalf?" I looked over at the wizard (hat gone but staff and long sword in hand…he too appeared a bit on the wearied side of things), wondering if Frodo's dear, magical fairy godfather had done something to prevent harm befalling the hobbit. If so, I'd take back everything I'd said about geriatrics and senile minds.

"Not I," he shook his head, rejecting credit for this miracle, smiling like a leprechaun who found his pot of gold, "I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye."

Sigh. Again with the cryptic sayings. Was there something in the wizard manual about answering back with only cryptic answers seventy percent of the time?

We all watched as Frodo undid a couple of his tunic's buttons and found instead of bare skin, a covering of chain-mail made up of pearly, silver ringlets. It was easily the most beautiful armor I'd ever laid eyes on.

"Mithril," Gimli breathed.

Oh yeah, mithril. Earlier, if I recall, someone mentioned Frodo's uncle having a chain shirt of mithril. Apparently that was true, since his nephew now wore it.

Elated that nobody was dead (especially not a hobbit and not the Ring Bearer) and my plan succeeded, thanks to a lot of foresight on Frodo's part, I ruffled the mithril bearing hobbit's brown curls. "Smart kid," I said to him with a wide smile and didn't even hesitant when bending over and giving him a quick kiss on his sweaty, dusty cheek.

"Oy!" Pippin exclaimed at this unexpected sign of affection (I think I heard a certain wolf snort at this).

The rosy blush blossoming on Frodo's cheeks almost erased the past minutes of absolute terror. Too joyful to share my friend's embarrassment, I shared a smile of amused happiness with Aragorn.

Gimli laughed, "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."

Our happiness was doomed to a short life, of course. Familiar shrieks and clamoring hoards of heartbeats rang true in the far distance. Marking the fact that our enemy was far from defeated.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dum," Gandalf ordered, not wasting another moment.

I respected that. A chain shirt of mithril could only save the day so many times.

To our feet and out the wide hole of an opening, our Fellowship again entered the grand realm of the dwarf city. Gandalf, staff alit with brightness, led the way. Aragorn again took his place at the rear, following the four hobbits whose short legs probably kept the rest of us from running full speed. There was no time to suggest a different system where Jacob or I could carry the hobbits and progress this escape to a faster pace, so my brother and I took places running alongside the hobbits. This way, their small selves were a slightly protected on each side.

I could have mistaken what approached for a swarm of locusts.

It was like the shadows created them. Out of the darkness hoards of goblins or orcs or whatever the frick they were formed in numbers too many to count. Down the glorious pillars they crawled. All forming a wall of shrieking, drooling, hissing, ugly bodies a football field wide. We barely made it past the realm's midpoint, when the enemy had us circled in tightly. Then they stopped to wait and watch us. Blood lust and sick excitement radiating so thickly through the air that it clouded almost as badly as dead dwarf.

With nowhere else to run, the Fellowship rounded up. Not giving two rips about their newly-developed warrior pride, we nestled the hobbits in the middle of the circle with Jacob (not that brother-dearest needed the extra protection…I think we all just agreed to title him with hobbit duty until this whole shebang was good and over), though they still had swords drawn at the ready to rush whenever part-two got started.

Positioned between Aragorn and Boromir, I held my own sword at length and crouched down a tad, digging my feet into the ground in preparation to spring. Fangs bared and wet in anticipation, I stared into those beady, empty eyes and growled deep in my throat.

Nobody dies. A drip of that vain hope remained in my dead heart.

Realistically, I knew this equation would end in the negative for my side. Maybe if all of us were vampires the odds would even out better. Here and now, though, I knew my companions would put up a heck of a fight…until the very end.

I only hoped the hobbits' deaths would be quick. Which wasn't a far fetch since they'd probably die first. Followed by each one of the warriors. Finally, not to be too full of myself, only myself and perhaps Gandalf would remain.

Once everyone on my end was gone, then I'd let go. I'd give into the hot, hissing, purely instinctive predator that I worked so long to harness.

I'd show these mutated frogs what real bloodlust looked like.

Then, (realistic again) I'd die as well. Of course I planned on taking at least a hundred with me before I went down. To be honest, the idea of dieing didn't strike all that much fear in me. Five hundred years may not have been the longest eternity ever, but it was plenty for me. Plenty enough to not shrink back from death when it was standing right in front of you…with five hundred of its closest minions.

So yeah…death…bring it on.

I…I only wished I'd had another chance to tell Jacob…you know…and Esme and Carlisle and Alice and Jasper and Rosalie and Emmett…even Edward maybe…

…wonder if I'd see Charlie and my mom again.

_Boom_!

A quake ripped through the ground in thick tremors, shaking everyone (mutant frog and hobbit alike) out of battle mode.

_Boom_!

Another quake hit and the orcs/goblins started up their shrieking again. Instead of drooling, blood thirsty shrieking, this type sounded a bit more worrisome. Before any one of us could take advantage of this distraction, the hoards were already scampering away, dissolving into the darkness faster than they appeared.

"Ah ha!" Gimli shouted in triumph as if he'd created the booming noise.

With the smell of goblin and battle foreplay musk only remaining in small lingers, that soon became overwhelmed by a wave of heat and power unlike any other. We all turned to where the booming sounded into a deep groaning. Whatever was making those sounds lit up the other entrance with radiating light as if it were a tower of fire.

I stepped forward a bit and breathed in.

Fire. Ash. Power. Deep power. Almost like the type surrounding the Ring in Frodo's pocket. My skin hummed as I felt this thing suck in the life around it like a black hole. It called out and whispered to me like touch. The predator instead, I felt it flutter and growl to be released. Whatever was before us, my vampire instincts wished to be near it. To be swept away in its black hole of power.

I took another step forward.

"Bella!" Aragorn half-frantically-half-warningly whispered, as if we still had a prayer of not being noticed; he reached forward and grabbed my arm to stop me.

"It doesn't have a heartbeat," I spoke aloud in awe as I realized that whatever was in that entrance was very much alive and without a circulatory system, "That thing doesn't have a heartbeat."

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked.

Forcing myself to pull attention away from the "devilry", I turned and saw Gandalf close his eyes, visually making it obvious he wished all of this away.

"A Balrog," the wizard formed the word as if revealing the darkest of skeletons in his closet, "A demon of the ancient world."

Demon?

As in a real one?

Wow…demons here apparently were a lot larger than people in my world imagined.

"This foe is beyond any of you," Gandalf said, "Run!"

Aragorn tugged on my arm once so I would follow as we all made a dust cloud at the wizard's command.

For a bunch of warriors, we sure did run a whole heck of a lot.

Upon reaching a small passage out, Gandalf ushered us through to a staircase. Hanging back as most of the rest ran ahead, a tug at my body still yearned to go back out to the realm and be closer to the Balrog. This wanting was unlike anything I'd really felt. It was sort of similar to bloodlust or what I felt when offered the Ring of Power. An unclear assurance promised that what would fulfill me was with the Balrog, the demon of the ancient world.

Back against the staircase wall, as each member flew by, I stayed on and stared up at the entrance where the realm was filling up with brimming light and the smell of ashen darkness. My fingers struggled to climb back up from where we'd come.

"Isabella," Gandalf voice sailed into my swirling thoughts. Copying Aragorn move, the wizard took hold of my arm and shook it lightly to pull me away from mental oblivion. Reacting without thought, I hissed and lurched back from his touch. Realizing how I acted, annoyance quickly morphed into shame. Putting a hand to my mouth (retracting fangs and all), I stared wide-eyed back at the wizard, speechless on how to respond after that.

"Isabella," he said softly, without a hint of chastising, a hand gently still on my arm, "You must keep going forward. Do not turn back."

Those eyes, steel blue and twinkling half the time I saw them. They held endless centuries with experiences I couldn't begin to imagine. Behind them was power, not dark, greedy power like that of the Balrog. Power that flowed outward without feeding on something. Power that felt natural in its surroundings yet too supernatural to compare. Pure, unoffending power.

If anything was going to pull me away from yearning darkness, it'd be the eyes of the grey wizard. As if his stare and touch twisted the lock to release me, I felt the compel of the Balrog fade considerably. Nodding wordlessly, I turned away from the growing light and went the rest of the way down the staircase.

Only to come upon an architectural fiasco. Where these dwarves adored pillars, they abhorred staircase railings. The staircase down from the realm entered into a enormous cave that fell endlessly. To correct this for the need of going from place to place, the dwarves had built a number of connecting stairways…all of which were considerably narrow and without sides.

What the heck was with this mission and its need to be labeled suicidal?

Carrying onward, we were forced to slow down as each step possibly took a sharp turn to the next staircase. After what seemed like thousands of steps, Legolas (leading the crowd) raised a hand for everyone to stop. Before us was a large patch of nothingness between the staircase under us and the one in front of us.

Without anymore pause, the elf leapt forward and landed gracefully (be still my surprised heart) on the other side. Next went Gandalf (admirably spry for a man his age, I must say), and as he jumped yet another challenge came our way (which made sense since all of it had been so frickin easy up till this point!). A familiar and unwanted (by the rational part of me) growl rumbled through the cave and under our feet, along with the tings of arrows flying through the air from afar and landing on the side of the staircase.

Once again, the enemy (Balrog and his backup dancers, the orc archers) was closing in on us. Note my joy.

While Legolas and Aragorn went to retaliate with their own archery skills, Boromir grabbed hold of Merry and Pippin and lifted them onto wolf-Jacob's back.

"Go!" he ordered my brother, who sprang his twelve-plus long body its full length while jumping the cut-off. Honestly, Jake's wolf body reached almost the entire way when he stretched out, so the only hard part I could see came in the hobbits not freaking out so much that they let go of his fur.

They didn't and made it to the other side just fine.

"Sam," I reached for the small, plump hobbit. Again fixated on my false appearance, Sam hesitated before allowing me to secure him in my arms. Lifting his weight with ease, I took two steps forward and then put some muscle in my feet as I jumped over with considerable airtime before landing squarely on the other staircase.

"Thank you, miss," Sam said to me as properly as his present state of uncertain terror allowed.

"Anytime, Sam," I smiled back and helped Jacob herd the hobbits back a ways while covering them from enemy fire.

Louder and closer came the groans and roars of the approaching Balrog, again I felt a stir in my flesh but ignored it the minute myself and the others watched Aragorn and Frodo (the remaining ones on the cut-off staircase) scramble back as part of the crumbled structure beneath them fell away. As the groans grew louder, the tremors grew stronger, causing a hefty piece of rock from above to fall and leave our leader and Ring Bearer on an unstable island of stairs.

Clutching Frodo to his front, Aragorn commanded the small hobbit to lean forward, in hopes of their weight directing the swaying structure towards the rest of us. Either out of our fearless leader's genius or pure dumb luck, the staircase did fell forward and Aragorn and Frodo safety landed in Legolas' and Boromir's arms.

No freedom for celebration. Time to run again.

Soon enough, we made it to flat surface and went scampering towards a bridge (again, narrow and without sides…perfecto for the suicidal theme we were going for).

Flashes of burning hot heat at our backs and a roar that sounded like a blazing forest, stopped us from running. We all turned together and froze as a creature gigantic in height rose up. Black skinned (though I wouldn't call it skin since I could see parts of a skeletal structure without epidermis covering), horned, and winged, the typhoon level waves of consuming power radiating off this thing made no mistake indicating it as the Balrog.

The tingling in my skin from before escalated to a full-blown scream of silent torture to embe myself in the life-sucking hole of power centered in this demon.

"Isabella! Go!" Gandalf yelled at me fiercely as he followed the rest of the Fellowship who had already began towards the bridge.

Panting in effort and focusing all my mental capacity to block out the yearnings of my predator within, I too placed my back to the ash and brimstone beast and ran across the bridge. Though, the thunderous steps behind hinted that the Belrog wasn't going to just stand by and watch us walk away.

Coming to the other end of the bridge, I stayed close to my brother and the hobbits to cover them as we made our way up another set of stairs. If I hadn't smelt the nearness of sunlight and fresh air, verbal complaints about another staircase would have already left my lips.

Just a few more steps and we were all home free.

Kiss my dairy-air goodbye, Moria. I gladly say farewell to your goblins, orcs, and Balrogs.

"You cannot pass!" the words rung through the mountain cave as the wizard spoke them. Followed immediately by Frodo, who stood close by, crying out Gandalf's name.

No! No! No! Only a couple steps up and we're out of this hellhole. I could literally see the flakes of sunlight on the rocks before me. Feeling vexed and wanting of fresh air not polluted with dwarf death and goblin drool, I grinded my teeth as I turned around to see what the heck Gandalf was getting into.

My eyes widen three sizes as I beheld the wizard standing on the bridge before the smoke and darkness of the demon Balrog. Rising to full height, the Balrog made Gandalf appear so small, I couldn't help the jolt of fear climbing from my chest through my limbs.

'He doesn't stand a chance,' that idiotic negative part of my brain simpered, 'He's gonna die.'

'Shut the hell up!' I ordered back.

It was like watching one of those video games Emmett would always coerce Jasper, Rose, or I into playing with him. The Balrog unsheathed a fiery sword from nowhere and Gandalf raised his wooden staff. From its tip lit an orb of white light that encircled the wizard.

Gandalf was shouting out words, but I hardly paid attention. The clouds of energy swarming around the two beings stifled all my attention from going anywhere else. With hitched breathe, I watched the demon bring down its sword on Gandalf, whose light repelled it, giving a clap like lighting. At seeing the wizard at full force (no mistaking what I was watching…this was magic at its best), the voice of hope grew louder and did small flips in celebration.

Gandalf would be fine. He was a wizard after all. Heck. Perhaps wizards couldn't die in this world.

Rising from his small defeat, the Balrog extended its arm again, this time bearing a long, enflamed whip. Raising it high and whipping it threateningly, the demon took a step forward, daring Gandalf to bring on round two.

The power pulsating from the grey wizard told me our fearless-leader was far from done.

"You! Shall! Not! Pass!" Gandalf's voice thundered as he struck his staff hard against the bridge. In a ripple affect sailing through the air, the power of that strike went as far as where we stood. It hit me with such force I fell back a bit against the rock wall behind.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the Balrog took a step forward…big mistake…as if make of sugar, the bridge crumbled into a thousand pieces and fell from beneath the demon. Roaring, the creature of darkness and ash disappeared in slow motion as it got pulled towards the earth's center in a cloud of fire and smoke.

Bubbling with joy and ready to hug the heck out of Gandalf once we all got out of here, a smile climbed onto my face of admiration towards the wizard.

Before the smile reached its full crest, another whipping sound stung the air. In the blink of an eye, Gandalf fell to his knees (staff dropped from his hands and rolled off the bridge) and was pulled off the bridge to where only his hands were feebly grasping for leverage to hold onto.

No!

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried and started rushing towards the bridge, only to be caught and struggled against by Boromir

'Nobody dies. Nobody dies,' my mind ordered me back to the plan. Almost every ounce of me wanted to vamp-speed over to Gandalf and pull him up. This became impossible once Merry and Pippin too began descending the stairs, wishing to go save their friend. Grasping Merry's cape and Pippin's torso, I yanked the two of them back and locked them in from running.

"Let go!" Merry yelled at me, "We must get to Gandalf!"

'I know!' I wanted to agree, but knew it was too dangerous.

For seconds that seemed eternities, we all watched Gandalf try to grip the edge of the stairs. Then, without reason, he stopped.

Staring at us, the grey wizard's face almost expressed shock that we were still there.

"Fly you fools," he croaked…

…then he let go and fell away.

Nobody dies. Nobody dies.

Game over. I failed.

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_AN: Ladies and gentlemen, summer vacation has arrived! Finals are over and I'm ready for a summer in the city! Please review and I'll try to keep really updated with these chapters. I should have one out every other week. Review, my darlings!_


	14. The Hills are alive literally

_Disclaimer: I own a cat named Tabsters, a car named Felix and a pair of hooker boots (no name)…but not Lord of the Rings (Tolkien) and Twilight (Meyer)…to be honest, I'm more envious of the former._

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Chapter 13: So, we're gonna start off with some evil over-lord wizard (a.k.a magic-wielding butt kisser)…then switch channels to elvish tree huggers…Objections, anyone?

_Saruman's POV_

I felt it in the core of my soul.

Gandalf the Grey had fallen into shadow and darkness.

Deserved fate of a fool.

As head of the wizards I always felt aware of the presence of my brethren in Middle Earth. Constant blights in my mind; voices and feelings that dared hold me accountable to the whims and principles of such lower beings.

Men and elves. What disgusting disappointments they turned out as.

Men…to this day I hold firm to my council to the Ainur not stand by and allow Eru to remake the race of men after that shameful display in Almaren. Many blame Melkor for their first fall, but none understand that the Dark Lord merely achieved in revealing what so many are blind too. Men are weak. Too weak to survive. So weak in fact that in their weakness the bastard race of vampire was born.

And now one of those bastards walks in the presence of the Ring Bearer.

Although, now with Gandalf gone, the entire situation was laughable. A hobbit carrying the Ring of Power. A farmer's simpering offspring beholding the greatest power Middle East ever knew…so pathetic that it was worth a laugh at how all the faith and great "plans" of Eru should come crashing down with a sting of the Balrog's whip.

For who was left to protect the "great" Ring Bearer? A ranger of the North? The witless, hardheaded, proud son of a half-crazed Gondorian steward? A dwarf lord who did little but grunt and lust for blood and beer? Three small hobbits with their pitchforks, overweight bellies, and brains the size of peas?

Perhaps they now laid faith in Thranduil's first born? Legolas of Mirkwood. If that elf child was not as ignorant and haughty as his buffoon of a father always was to true power instead of naively adhering to old, useless faith in the old, weak power, I might have considered the pampered prince and his precious archery tools a threat.

Nay, none of this _Fellowship_ shall see the dawn of my new age. An age of reason and industry. An age without the needless, empty promises of a dead Creator. The Age of Saruman.

It shall have begun with Rohan-

'_Show me the vampire girl who travels with the Ring-Bearer_!'

Startled to the point of rising from my study's desk chair, I listened again for the voice of Sauron. What was the task he wished of me? (Oh, I so dreamed of the days when my loyalty should not submit to any lord…Dark Prince or otherwise. I shall be my own master soon enough.)

"Speak again, my lord," I requested to the air, reaching across Isengard to the Dark Lord's stronghold Barad-dur, so our minds could intertwine with one another.

'_Go to the Palantir. Show me the vampire girl. Show me the daughter of Sulpicia's line_!'

The female bastard? I had been both suspicious and surprised when the Crebain reported that a member of the vampire race had been allowed into Elrond's pathetic little army.

An underhanded move by Gandalf to throw his enemies off, no doubt.

Walking into my tower's primary chamber, I approached the palantir and raised my hand over it. Grey clouds formed in its ebony globe as I felt my spirit ascend beyond Orthanc's tall tower, over the tall trees of Isengard, passing above Fangorn, then along the Misty Mountains, finally the palantir descended my vision right on the crest of Lorien. The realm of Galadriel and Celeborn.

Whatever Sauron wished to see of this vampire had to be revealed quickly. That elf witch and her lord would sense the presence of a seeing stone's power very soon after the objects of my interest entered their reach.

As if ripples of water settling into clear glass, my vision defined and images of the broken Fellowship became apparent.

They were far weaker a spectacle than I had imagined.

Beaten and tired, had providence been on my side this day, a small orc army would have sufficed to cut down the rest of Gandalf's followers. The Ring of Power in my possession and all the knowledge from my years spent in study and meditation come to their true purpose of one with the earned right to wield the Ring's authority over all man, elf, and nature.

Following the Dark Lord's orders, I closed off my ambitious thoughts from our communion and focused on Sulpicia's bastard creation.

She was a slip of a female, even by men's standards. Pale and thin. Youthful in appearance; obviously she had left the world of men on the cusp of womanhood. To anyone passing her by, especially a man or boy (since they tended to often allow themselves to be ruled by petty emotions such as lust and fantasy), she would appear a normal lady. A tad attractive, in an unnatural sort of way that was rather disgusting.

Well, on a better day.

Whatever happened in the depths of Moria left the vampire no less haggard than her companions. Her hair was reaching everywhere and falling out of its intricate ties. Dark circles gathered below her eclipsing golden eyes, and all over her person – hair, clothing, and splattered on her neck and face – were stains of black…

…orc blood. She still wore the unwashed remains of her kill.

Disgusting abomination.

'_This is Sulpicia's blood kin_,' Sauron's voice stated in recognition to the female.

'My lord,' I replied, still confused by his intense interest in the vampire, 'what of this child-vampire? She is hardly a threat. Whatever power she possessed in the mirrored-earth is no longer capable of opposing to our campaign over these lands.'

'_She is of the line of Sulpicia! Possessing close blood to the Almaren race!_' the Dark Lord's voice bellowed in the outer-realm's air, '_Her very presence is an omen against our purpose_. _As long as she is in the presence of the Ring, she is a threat!_'

Like vines encasing my face, I felt the Dark Lord's hold drag my sight from the forest of Lorien without my consent. We traveled through mind's eye into darkness and shadow…then the darkness started filling with grey clouds and a light took away the shade ahead. Grey turned to light and light turned to silver and silver turned to gold. Rays of gold so bright my gaze hurt from the unceasing stare conquered the space before me. As my spirit traveled through this gold, Sauron's power pulled me out of the light and I found the startling illumination belonged to the light of a sun.

Behind a mountain that climbed its peak to the very sky was placed a sun alighting the mountain and sea below. Waves crashed into the rocky shore and eagles called as they glided across the sky. Atop the mountain, crowned at its highest reach was a watchtower. Stones of white glimmered in the sun, creating the appearance of a flashing jewel shaped as magnificently built halls.

I knew this place where the Dark Lord captured my inner sight to gaze upon.

This watchtower was the hall of Ilmarin, home of Manwe and Varda, King and Queen of the Valar. Atop the mountain Taniquetil, at the borders of Valinor, stood the palace and thrones of the Elder King and the Lady of the Stars.

At this sight, I tried to push back from Sauron's hold. He had betrayed me to the Valar! His ambitions had turned to fear, and the traitor was going before the throne of Manwe to beg for amnesty in exchange for my life and power!

'_Be still, Saruman_!' the Dark Lord thundered, '_These are but memories of Manwe's hall_. _Events of the distant past, before the fall of our great Lord Melkor_.'

Despite my remained infuriation at being brought to this realm of memories, I stilled my aggression against Sauron and allowed his will to lead through this vision of the past.

Into Ilmarin, the vision revealed the grand halls of the Valar king. Yet the silver and white beauty rang with sounds of weeping. Once arriving into the final hall, where Manwe and Varda rested on their thrones, the weeping grew louder until it engulfed the entire chamber like the song of bells.

Sauron ceased our movement and before me progressed the vision.

On their mighty thrones sat the Lord and Lady of the West. Manwe, his eyes bright as sapphires and gaze hard and cunning like a hawk. His robes blue and violet, with a crown as gold as the sun's rays through the windows encircling his brow. To the king's side sat Varda, his spouse, her face radiating the light of the moon and stars.

Before them was the origin of the weeping. On her knees, head bent low, ebony hair hanging down and touching the stone floor, was Nienna, the Lady of Mercy and Grief.

"I beg thee, wise king," Nienna's voice, filled with sympathy and sorrow, sailed in sweetness through the air as she cried, "Spare my servants, the maids Sulpicia and Athenodora. Forgive their transgressions against Almaren. Have mercy, Lord Manwe."

"Remember, my king," said Mandos, Valar lord and Keeper of the Dead as well as Nienna's brother, who stood beside his crying sister, tall and stern, "These handmaidens betrayed your laws. They listened to the lies of Melkor, the Dark Lord, and now blood and dark death has left the lands of Almaren barren and filled with endless sorrow. What of justice and retribution for their deeds?"

"Have mercy, King Manwe! Show grace, Queen Varda!" Nienna cried out against her brother.

'_Watch, my trusted servant_,' Sauron commanded to my spirit, '_Before you lies the season of history when Manwe choose to create the vampire and the One Ring, my power and mighty victory, was first revealed in a false prophecy_.'

"Peace!" Manwe held his hand to silence his fellow Valar and placed it down again. Nienna, her grey eyes filled with crystal tears and mouth ceasing in cries, lifted her head and gazed up at her lord and lady. Dispassionate and silent, Mandos continued to stand before the pair without an expression of pleasure or passion concerning the fate of his sister's handmaidens.

"These charges against the maids Sulpicia and Athenodora of Almaren are great. That is without argument," Manwe began, "Surely in equal hand they deserve death and darkness to bind them forever. Due to their actions, the first of Eru's children were destroyed and turned into abominations of nature, thirsting for blood and ruled by madness."

"So you will send them to the pit of fire to burn in agony forever," Mandos replied, as if expecting this judgment, though not supporting or standing against it.

"Please no!" Nienna's face fell to the ground again, "Their suffering shall break my heart. Remember their ignorance to what Melkor made them do. Show grace to their mistakes. I know the offense is great, but surely the compassion of the Valar is greater."

Before Manwe could call for silence again, Varda stretched out a shimmering hand to the lamenting lady. "Be still, my lady Nienna," Manwe's wife spoke in grace and tenderness, "You understand the laws of Eru rule all creation. The mortal children Sulpicia and Athenodora betrayed all goodness and must be made to suffer. It is justice, and without this justice we shall fall to the darkness and chaos that now rules the hollow heart of Melkor."

"Yet this does not mean there cannot be justice without mercy," the Elder King added, "Upon Almaren's destruction, a vision of Eru's song continuing through these dark events filled my mind. Your maidens shall suffer in retribution for their deeds, compassionate Nienna. Their souls shall be caged in unchanging bodies until the end of the age of men. They shall carry your mark of death but it shall be corrupted by Melkor's tainted hand. The blood of the living shall be their thirst and lust, and never again will the creations of Sulpicia and Athenodora conquer the world of men despite their immortal quality. Their souls shall always wish for death's fulfillment but mistake it for a want of the blood of a beating heart."

"Already our Father Eru creates a mirror-world outside Arda's realm to take the maidens," Varda spoke, "There they shall rule shadows and undergrounds. Standing tall with the minds of men but succumbed by undeniable beastly instincts."

"Good king and queen," Nienna said, tears and sorrow non-ending, "Though I see your mercy in this fate and give thanks for it, once my servants leave Arda, shall I never again be comforted by their companionship and service? Will not even the end of the age of men bring their souls out of this immortal flesh and back to the realm of my dwelling?"

A smile and gaze of love spread across the face of the Valar ruler. "Your heart is pure and unwavering, dear lady," Manwe replied, "We have not forgotten this is a loss to you as well. Eru has granted an ending to this sorrow. Once the price is paid, restoration shall overcome the wound."

Taking her spouse's hand, Varda shifted her gaze from knelt Nienna and stared into the air. Her face brightened and the greatest of the Valar Queens spoke, "On this day Melkor, the Dark Lord and Master of Ill Fates, hides away in the Void, but soon he shall join the Dark Hand, Sauron, and wage war on the free peoples of Middle Earth. Through his lineage of evil, Melkor's taint shall not leave Arda until the ending of the Age of Rings. Then, at a time when evil's power seems a shadow over all light, all Melkor and Sauron's might shall burn away where it was first forged."

"For the part of the last of the Almaren race of men," Manwe continued, apparently foreseeing what Varda envisioned, "The blood of Sulpicia and Anthenodora must take oath to bind themselves to the fate of Melkor's fall."

"Only then, dear Nienna," Varda said, her lit eyes still gazing into the nether-region of future and past, "When the destroyed banner of all Sauron's power, granted by his Dark Lord, is placed as a seal on one of Almaren's blood kin, only then shall Eru grant the debt repaid and the dirtied blood clean of all deeds against Almaren. For this debt, a member of Sulpicia's house must give over their life in order to live without the weight of your handmaiden's evil."

"This debt repaid," Manwe looked to both Nienna the Lady of Pity and Mourning and Mandos the Doomsman, "Shall be the final omen that all of Melkor's servants and armies have fallen away until the Battle of Battles."

"Does this comfort you?" Varda, her gaze no longer fixated on visions and dreams, asked her fellow Valar lady.

Tears no longer streaming from her dark eyes, the Valar Queen of Mourning, looked in adoration at her sovereign lord and lady and then bowed her head once more, "With all my heart, good Manwe and Varda, I thank thee for thy good mercy and wisdom."

"And you, Mandos?" Manwe spoke to the Keeper of the House of the Dead, "Do you contend that this is justice for Almaren's fall?"

Bowing his head in respect to the pair, Mandos replied, "What my king and his lady decide is surely the will of Eru. When this justice is repaid, the cries of Almaren's many fallen will be quieted and no more retribution sought after."

"Then, milord and lady, depart from our halls in peace. May the goodness of Eru grace your steps," Varda gestured Nienna to rise and set them both away.

Offering his hand to his sister, Mandos helped Nienna to her feet. The siblings bowed again and turned, facing where my sight looked upon, and started walking away. Their bodies deforming as they stepped further away from Manwe and Varda's thrones until they disappeared into the air.

All around me the halls of Ilmarin dissipated as dust carried by wind, and I felt Sauron carry me from this vision.

'_Now you understand, my servant_,' Melkor's servant and lieutenant spoke, '_The very presence in this realm of a member of Sulpicia's line is an omen for our failure_. _Manwe and Varda foresaw her coming and the repayment of her house's debt_. _She must be destroyed_, _Saruman_! _The vampire must not be allowed to fight for the victory of the free peoples_.'

Truly, I wondered if the Dark Lord understood how foolish he sounded. Taking the word of a Valar king and queen on a prophecy was no wiser than planning out a day based on a memory of a dream. All this worry about a single vampire was rather ridiculous.

Again veiling my agitation, I tried to reason with the Lord of Mordor. Perhaps then he would release this hold and allow me to return to tasks actually vital to Middle Earth's overthrow.

I had more Uruk-hai and orcs to disband. That simpering Grima was meant to return my inquiry with updates on Rohan. Also, the Ent lords of Fangorn were rumored to have started to awaken.

Spending vital time on a single girl was a waste of our efforts.

'My lord,' I replied, 'Already I have Uruk-hai tracking the Ring Bearer to Lorien. Celeborn and Galadriel shall not provide haven for long before Gandalf's horde is once again outside their protection. Then the Ring shall return to our grasp and the vampire shall be as harmless as the rest of her comrades. There is no threat-'

'_She is a threat_!' Sauron's voice trembled so that I felt his consuming fire touch my inner being, '_All who look upon her recognize the possibility of our end_. _If she is allowed to remain, her existence shall give hope_. _She must be destroyed! I command it_!'

His hold strengthened and my mind clouded and began to unravel. I felt the scorching heat and deafening roar of Mount Doom's flames and molten rock burn as if poured on my very flesh.

'My Lord Sauron!' I forced my power to reach out, beyond his grasp, 'I merely questioned your concern about this girl because of her weak state...Surely an alliance as powerful as ours will overcome even the threat of a prophecy…But I do see the wisdom in destroying even the hope of the dawn of men. Allow me to take this duty and destroy the vampire.'

Immediately his grip slid away and my spirit ceased its enflamed torture. Centering my mind again, I knew in that moment that as soon as my servants held the One Ring in their grasp, I would destroy both the powers of men and elves and the powers of Sauron. Clearly none but my own rule qualified to decide the order of Middle Earth; all else was ruled by archaic theology and principles proved false by the ages. Eventually even the Dark Lord was doomed to drown in his own chaos.

No…this world needed order and science and logic. Only reason would be left once fate played its hand.

After a pause, Sauron's orders came, '_You shall take this duty, my servant_. _Regain your loyalty after loosing the captive Gandalf the Grey_. _To restore your rightful place as my right hand and second only to me in the new world_. _Take out your studies on magic and go to the mirror-earth. There you shall find he who shall destroy Sulpicia's heir_.'

Careful not to fall from his grace again, I replied in sensitive question, 'Must I travel all the way to her world to gain a suitable match for the task? My creations are strong, milord, a small band could dismember a vampire of her size and skill.'

'_While your Uruk-hai army, created for my dominion, are majestic indeed. We must have a member of the vampire race destroy the girl. We must use this as a validation to the world that any strength put in the word of Manwe and Varda only ends in destruction,_' Sauron revealed his plan, '_The girl shall be destroyed by her maker. Already I find a lustful and defiant eye in his being…especially concerning his creation. He wants her flesh and will easily succumb to our direction if we promise it to him._'

'Then when she refuses him,' I went on, 'Which she surely will, the beast that lies in the bastard race shall overcome and he shall kill her.'

'_And we shall then kill him_,' Sauron finished with seething pride, '_The vampire's oath shall be broken, and Nienna's seal shall never mark the end of our reign over all of Arda_.'

Perhaps in this the Dark Lord was revealing some strategy. By molding the vampire girl's destruction in use of her maker, none should expect it…least of all the female bastard. Also it should leave myself without the task of wasting a few Uruk-hai in destroying her, instead feeding falsehoods into the mind of another of the abominable race until all that was left was watching the two of them draw blood and life out of one another.

Sensing my spirit return to its corporeal flesh, feet still on the chamber floor, hand extended over the Palantir, I agreed once more to take upon myself this command.

'_Do not fail me again, Saruman_,' were the Dark Lord's final words before his presence in the seeing stone lifted.

Retracting my hand after ending the thread of our communication, I opened my eyes and blinked. A grim frown formed on my olden face as I scowled at Sauron's last remark.

_Do not fail me again_.

Fail. Fail! Does breeding a new species to wield the power of Isengard and Barad-dur deem fit as failure? Many years of study to create new weapons and sciences in order to exceed the primitive forces of men and elves…that was seen as failure in the his eyes! Or what of my spies discovering the location of the One Ring in the hands of a worthless halfling?

On the day my armies overcome the ranks of Rohan and Gondor, when all the powers of men have fallen and elves flee to the Western Shores, on that day I shall appear as first of my banner and call out to the Dark Lord Sauron. Reminding him of these moments, I will once and for all demonstrate the true power of metal and machines and their proclivity to prove all else as failures.

Sneering once more at the Palantir, I threw the clothe over it and swept over to the tower's study. Feeling an urge to act out my brewing aggression, I wielded a force that threw open a crate beside one of the bookshelves. Pouring out of the crate came a fountain of papers…I would have one of the Dunlending brutes clean up the mess later…finally a stack of papers in wide, thin binding of ebony tree bark, gilded with mithril edges, flew out and landed on one of the desks.

Few songs, tales, or spells existed in Middle Earth pertaining to the mirror-earth, the realm of the vampire. Even the elves only knew of the mutated species from aged songs and histories told by the Istar. Before my kind departed from Valinor, each our Valar teachers granted us knowledge and gifts to help the hopeless peoples of Middle Earth. My own teacher Aule, Valar lord of crafts and substances, gave me his studies and much literature on metals and chemicals. My former friend, Olorin, who came to prefer the name of Gandalf, was gifted with very rare spells and notes concerning the mirror-world and vampire race. For many years, Gandalf had spent in the company of the sorrowful-one Nienna, who poisoned Olorin's mind with sympathy toward the deviant race of the blood-eaters.

Long before I broke with the Istar, Gandalf gave me Nienna's gift for safekeeping. Not expecting the tales of old to truly come to pass, I tucked the Valar queen's writings away as useless scrapes, since no vampires existed in all of Arda after the age of the Two Lamps.

It seemed in the midst of our disagreement, last time we spoke, my old friend forgot to mention returning the spells and tales to him.

Pity. Seeing as how he was in the company of one of the only vampires in Middle Earth, I'm quite certain Nienna's teachings would have come in handy for once.

Opening the wood bindings, I carefully read each page before flipping to the next, searching for a single tale I vaguely remembered from seasons past. Coming to a drawing of two great dark figures and symbols outlining the page, I knew I had found the spell of entering the mirror-earth.

Other pages of Nienna's tales gave the incantations needed for each of the Istar to enter the vampire's realm, but those spells would only have us arrive at the time and location of Eru's bidding. Some months ago, I sensed my "Blue" Istar brother, Morinehtar, allow Eru's hand to spirit him away into the mirror-world.

No, that path was not acceptable. Never again would I allow another power to rule my steps in destiny.

Studying the page meticulously, I read the tale of Melkor, the fallen dark lord, whispering secrets of the Valar to his general Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs. According to the inscription, Melkor meant for Gothmog to enter the mirror-world, taint the vampire race further with more Ainur blood to turn them to hysteria, and return to unleash the bloodthirsty beasts on the elfin armies of Noldor. Of course, before any of this came to pass, Gothmog was slain by the elf lord Ecthelion of the Fountain, so Melkor must have passed along to other plans of siege upon learning of his Balrog general's demise.

In the Tengwar language, the instruction Melkor gave to his servant concerning crossing over from Arda to the mirror-world read:

_**With the blood of Feanor, High King of Noldor, still ruby on his fiery hands Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs, with a mane of red flames, bowed before his Master Morgoth. **_

_**From the jaws of the Dark Lord Morgoth, pleased with his servant, there came whispers of forgotten secrets of Manwe's halls.**_

_**With the wish for Gothmog to go beyond the Void and retrieve the daughters and sons of the exiled handmaidens of Nienna, the Lady of Pity and Mourning, Melkor bade the Balrog giant to capture one of the Noldor's Seven Seeing-stones.**_

_**With sprinkling of twice born blood, youthful and healthy, innocent life slain, the Seeing-stone would crack for a mere second in time.**_

_**Wind would still and ocean's waves counter-act their lunar force. **_

_**From the stone's crack, a drop of darkness would fall into the earth's soil.**_

_**Earth's soil turn to crumbing ash, the crest of Arda that the stone weighted upon would fall into the abyss.**_

_**Melkor instructed Gothmog to hold the Seeing-stone in hand, and when the earth beneath his feet gave way to the realm beyond the Void, the Balrog general was to scream out his intended destiny.**_

_**Then the Dark Lord's servant would arrive in the mirror-realm, created by Eru for the vampire.**_

_**Returning to the lands of Middle Earth upon a second scream.**_

Rereading the passage, I slowly understood the needed materials for this incantation. Already I possessed one of the Seven Seeing-stones, therefore all that was needed was "twice born blood, youthful and healthy."

"My lord Saruman?"

Snapping the script shut, I looked up at two orc guards awaiting my attention at the study's doorway. When they saw me peer at them, both bowed their heads in respect to their wizard master.

"What is it?" I asked, already formulating in my mind orders for one of them concerning this spell.

"A letter, master," one of them, I did not bother to learn their names, held out a folded parchment sealed shut, "A rider just came from the Mark and delivered it."

A letter from the Mark…Theoden's court. I had been expecting an update from Grima.

"Give it here," I ordered. Scurrying over like the maggot he was, the orc rushed to put the sealed message in my hands. He bowed in placing the parchment in my grasp; I only nodded back and waved him back to his place beside the other.

Breaking the seal – the seal of the House of Eorl, the king of Rohan's seal…used so none but the receiver could, under penalty of death, open the letter – I unfolded the parchment and immediately recognized Grima's shaky ink scrawls.

The fool's hand was barely legible.

Quickly scanning over the tidbits about Theoden's mind's continued fall into my hold, I came to a very interesting paragraph concerning the king's only son, Theodred. Apparently Theoden's whelp thought it would be cunning to send scouts into Isengard's borders as the first move in an unsuspecting attack on my Uruk-hai.

Smiling at this advantageous turn of events, for I knew Theoden's self-will would further weaken if he lost his sole son and heir, I closed the letter and looked satisfactorily back at the silent pair, who obediently stayed still for further commands.

"You," I pointed at the one would have held the letter, "What is your name?"

"Mine?" the idiot spawn of Morgoth's hand pointed at himself and grunted.

"Yes," I sighed. Beyond their willingness to fight and die for whatever cause allowed them to slay men, elves, and dwarves, orcs held few valuable skills…least of all, mental capabilities.

"G-Gorgo, milord," the great wart stuttered, "Named after Gorgol the Butcher, who-"

"Fine! Fine," I interrupted what would have been a pointless and time consuming history on the so-called great orc warriors of the ages, "Gorgo, go tell the captains of my Uruk-hai vanguard to prepare to march to the north of the ford by sundown. Make sure reinforcements are also at the ready. Also, have some of the army start up a scene on the eastern border. Rohan's prince means to attack us within the week, and I want him drawn away from our northern positioning."

Feasibly, that sniveling excuse of a king's son would be dead before he left my realm.

Snarling and drooling with anticipation for war, Gorgo bowed low. "As you wish, Lord Saruman," and he rushed off to prepare my Uruk-hai troops. As the other moved to follow his companion, I ordered him to wait a moment.

I still needed "twice born blood."

"Over on my southern border, there lived a family on the edge of the forest," my words brought back recollections of the Rohan family whose ancestry in that area right off Fangorn went farther back than my arrival at Isengard, "The current patriarch use to hedge the bushes around Orthanc. What did the armies do with his household once construction took place?"

"Umm…" the orc started scratching his bald, grey head, "I believe the man was killed, milord. (grunting laughter) The fool tried to stop our ranks from burning down his farm."

No matter. He was not the one needed.

"And what of his family?" I asked further, "I recall he had a young wife, who was pregnant with twins."

Grinning in a show of yellow pebbles for teeth, the servant replied, "We put the man's weeping bitch in one of the army's laundry. She washes our things. Whenever her two offspring start to squabble, we have a jolly time threatening to lob their ears and noses off."

How delightful to hear my army was spending their free time wisely.

"Bring me the infants," I instructed.

Raising his overgrown, busy eyebrows, the orc questioned, "Really? You want those brats?"

"Yes!" my voice rose at his daringness to interrogate an Istar, "I have need for those twin boys."

"Well…what if the mother starts to resist?"

"Kill her," I answered easily, "It is better that she not live to see the fate of her children anyway." A small kindness in tribute to her husband's years of service.

Turning around to go perform his duty, the orc stopped a shifted back a little. "Master…what about our laundry?"

"Kill the mother! And bring me those infant males!" I cried at the thoughtless, little maggot.

Flinching visually, the deficient wart of an orc darted out of my study and to the exit at a speed that sufficed to prove my volume increase had done the trick.

Sighing for how often it ended up as myself acting as the only rational mind in matters, I reopened Nienna's manuscript and studied Melkor's spell once more. Realizing that the sorcery required one more instrument, I stepped over to another box on one of the high shelves.

Opening the jeweled lid of the small metal chest, inside I found one of Aule's crafting tools he granted me as a gift to take once I left Valinor. Careful not to touch the keen blade, I grasped its black handle and pulled the ritual anelace from its cushioning and held it in the light.

A gift for shaping small, metal objects, blessed with the magic of a Valar lord to never go blunt. I watched the silver blade of the tool flashing in the sunlight as my hand rotated it over.

_**Twice born blood, youthful and healthy, innocent life slain.**_

A knife meant to carve metal would not even startle at cutting flesh. Especially infant's flesh.

* * *

_Bella POV_

Once upon a time, I was seven years old and in art class. Overall, I'm not really sure how I got along regularly in this second grade art class (my current abilities with studio media suggest I didn't hold a heck of a lot of promise back then). The only part of that art class, and my second grade year that stuck, was one day when my class arrived at the art room, the teacher (don't remember her name, but I remember she always wore thick, black eyeglasses with a purple beaded cord attached)…anyway the teacher immediately asked me to come with her. Together we walked to the administrative office where the principle, the guidance counselor, and my mother were all waiting in the guidance counselor's office (I remember this place had a big green beanbag the guidance counselor let students sit on, and her office was decorated with every Beanie Baby ever created on earth). The art teacher left to go back to the art room and my class, leaving a me alone with a bunch of frowning adults and silent, unblinking Beanie Babies.

Clueless and scared, my seven-year old self was kindly told to sit in the green beanbag chair. Then the guidance counselor showed me a picture I had painted for art class earlier that week. I assured my mom and two faculty members that I had indeed painted the picture at hand, and then I asked if I had done something wrong.

At that time, the picture looked fine to me. Blotchy and full of paint fingerprints but a fulfillment of the assignment nevertheless.

"Bella," the guidance counselor asked me sweetly, "Do you remember what Mrs. (insert forgotten name) asked you to paint?"

"My family," I answered very quietly, still not understanding what I had done wrong and fidgeting for my mother to take me out of this room. The Beanie Babies were starting to freak me out, and I was so going to demand some frozen yogurt on the way home as comfort food.

"Sweetheart," my mom said, working really hard to smile and hide the worry on her face that I still noticed, "If this is a picture of our family...where is Daddy?"

Then I got confused and looked back that the picture. On it was painted my family…two figures. A mother and daughter. To my seven year-old self, it all appeared correct.

"What do you mean?" I asked her, slightly annoyed and beginning to feel a pinching in the bottom of my stomach as if something very bad was about to occur.

"Sweetie," my mom tried again, "Why didn't you paint Daddy in your picture?"

At first I didn't answer.

The principle frowned and started rubbing his chin, muttering to himself.

The guidance counselor leaned forward and peered at me with wide, shiny eyes that looked too much like her Beanie Babies' button eyes.

My mother definitely was about to cry.

I just felt more annoyed as more of that pinching in my stomach grew. Something wasn't right and none of the adults were letting me in on the secret.

When not one of the adults answered back (like they were suppose too…for crying out loud, I was seven years old and well aware I was the stupidest person in the room!), I crossed my arms and said factually, "I have no daddy."

To my horror, this statement only made Mom loose it altogether and start sobbing uncontrollably in a tidal wave release of her pent up anxiety.

Alright, now that I've provided the scene…I'll explain why this episode from my early childhood was significant and why it related to the minutes following Gandalf's death.

You see, after that little intervention at the guidance counselor's office, it became very apparent that I had forgotten that I had a father. While a reasonable explanation for this would have been that, since my mother and I lived in Phoenix, Arizona and Charlie lived in Forks, Washington, I hadn't seen him after my parents divorced and therefore never created lasting memories of the man. The conflicting truth, though, was that I regularly saw Charlie about four times annually in the years following their divorce when I was six months old. In fact, only a few weeks before the family painting fiasco had been Christmas break which I spent in Forks with my father.

So now you understand why my mother and professionals were worried that I couldn't remember I had a father.

Upon the guidance counselor's advice, my mother sent me to a pediatric therapist.

This guy's office reminded me a lot of the guidance counselor's office…only with more toys and at lot less Beanie Babies. On one of the walls were shelves filled to the brim with toys. Because the last session of therapy ended badly (Mom's crying scared me and I started crying too…the principal had to take my mother to the teachers' lounge for a cup of tea and the guidance counselor was left trying to calm me down…she finally resorted to bribing me with Hershey's Kisses secretly stored in a drawer at her desk)….needless to say, I wasn't gun-hoe ready to see another shrink.

Quietly I sat, arms crossed and frown blazing, fighting my brain's urge to languish over the hundreds of toys this dude possessed as Mom and the doc spoke with one another about my parent's divorce and aspects of my life such as friendships, how I slept and ate, and communication. Finally, they informed me my mother was going to be leaving the room.

Again, I found myself at the mercy of the pediatric medical community. Slumping back into the huge, cushy couch my mom and I had been directed to sit on, I worked hard to keep my mouth clamped shut tightly and stare at everything in the office but the shrink.

"How is your day going, Bella?" the doc asked.

No answer.

To my dismay (the plan was to freak him out so I could get candy and leave…basically a repeat of how things went at the guidance counselor), he only smiled and wrote down some notes.

"Do you want me to call your mother back in?" he asked kindly.

Yes, I wanted my mother here….but I still didn't answer, only continued to stare hard at the lamps and shelves and toys and intimidating piles of books on the desk behind him.

More note taking. Then he set down his file and got up (for a moment, I thought all my hard work was going to pay off and the session was over); he walked over to the shelves full of toys and took out a plastic, thin container and then sat on the colorful rug laid out on the floor. Opening the container, I discovered it was full of colorful beads of all sorts and all colors. Different shapes, different materials, and pieces of string in one of the separation cubbies.

Again in a very kind voice, the shrink invited me to join him then he started making a bead necklace. Not giving me another look or word.

Holding out for a total of four minutes, I slipped off the couch and got on the floor to make my own necklace.

Before the session was over, I had created matching necklaces for my mother and I.

The shrink didn't speak up again once until he informed me it was time to go.

The next session, we made more jewelry and the same at the next session.

The next, he asked if we could play with different things. That time I choose to play with dolls (yes, I enjoyed owning a few Barbies in my younger days). This suggestion really pleased the therapist and we played with a guy and girl doll for a few more sessions. Finally he introduced coloring together. During these sessions, he asked me to draw different things and asked me questions about them after.

First he asked me to draw what made me happy. I drew my mom and frozen yogurt and penguins (come on, who wouldn't love to own a penguin?…you can tickle them!).

He asked me to draw my house. I drew our apartment building.

He asked me to draw my friends. I drew my mother and a couple of the girls who played jump rope and hide-n-seek with me at recess.

Finally, he asked me to draw what made me angry or sad. This was the first time I drew a man. This man was on the phone and very angry. Then I drew a woman with a phone; she too was angry.

It was this session that the therapist was able to piece together a diagnosis. Apparently, I had been harboring stress in response to witnessing each of my parents talked negatively about the other in my presence (they never actually talked smack about each other directly to me but I was sometimes in the room). This dormant stress came to a volcanic-erupting point after my last visit to Forks where I witnessed Charlie get really bent out of shape when my mom called him to request I be sent home earlier than expected because she wanted to take me to some ice skating show.

"You daughter has systematized and localized amnesia," the psychologist explained, "This means that her mind and body responds to particularly disturbing events and stress by causing her to completely eliminate memories of that event as well as memories relating to a particular person involved with the event…usually the causer of the stress."

To put it in seven-year old terms, my parents' arguing caused me to want to forget about it, which ended up in forgetting all about the fact that I even had a dad.

After some relaxation therapy, I was able to remember Charlie and most of the times I had visited him. Although, I never regained memories of that Christmas that caused my first amnesiac episode.

Upside of the family painting fiasco…my parents made sure to never fight in front of me again.

Very rarely had my amnesia response ever reared its head. Shortly after my vampire turning, I started to forget major parts of my human life (apparently my brain thought it was too painful in remembering a life before bloodsucking) With therapy coaching from Carlisle and Esme, I was able to stabilize most of my memory loss, and from then on I always stayed alerted to whether I was forgetting important facts, events, or people after particularly hard battles or crap that went on in life.

Okay…now that we're all familiar with one of Bella's many defects, time to explain what the heck it all has to do with Rings of Power and questing and deceased wizards.

No matter how much I try relaxation therapy, no matter how much time I gave my brain time to heal and tell itself that everything's okay, the exact moments following Gandalf's fall I can't remember for the (undead) life of me.

I remembered that wooden staff rolling off into the endless pit. I remembered him letting go of the ledge. Then my memory switched off and back on to me kneeling in front of Frodo.

Jacob explained later that after Gandalf fell, I pulled-slash-carried Merry and Pippin out of Moria then dropped them to the ground as everyone began crying/staring/gawking/all-around-loosing their cool after what just happened. Apparently I stood around in a sort of shocked statue-ness until Aragorn ordered everyone up and going (later on I'd give props to the guy for being proactive even in a such a valley of pitch-dark-hopelessness as we were in at that moment). He ordered me to go get Frodo, who had started walking away from group in silence.

Hence why I blanked out until crouching in front of Frodo.

We stared at each other for what must have been forever, and in the midst my stoic cracked an inevitable despair. In that moment I felt cold and gross and alone and so tired. I wanted to go away, to run as far away from Moria and the Ring and all of this. I wanted to cry, to kill, and to say to Frodo that he could let go and just walk away from all this too. That with Gandalf gone, there wasn't anymore need for a Ring Bearer…that he could go back to normal.

That he had sacrificed enough for this cause.

But there was no going back. There was no mithril vest to save us. Gandalf wasn't going to suddenly pop up and crack some twisted, cryptic joke with a twinkle in his eye. There were no more songs or beer or second breakfasts or elf-servants to tease. This was real life or death and we were stuck in it like a fly in a spider's web…without a wizard to guide us.

And Frodo…those blue eyes crystallizing with streaming tears…I wanted so bad to say something profound. Something that would take the last months of his life away and bring back his friend. Take away that grim look of despair and acceptance of doom from his face, which was too young and too innocent to endure such pain.

Instead I just crouched in front of him with my mouth shut, hating the world and evil and pure stupid chance or divine providence for handing us all these shit-luck cards in life.

To be honest, I hated myself a little in that moment. I hated that everything surrounding Gandalf's death made me too weak to help. That the Balrog was too evil. That Merry and Pippin needed saving. That I wasn't fast enough or thinking ahead enough to get the hobbits out then go back for the wizard.

That because all these stupid, meaningless factors took place, I couldn't save everyone.

Finally, staring as a mirror in front of the hobbit, I barely spoke out, "I…I don't know what to say."

_This sucks! Life sucks! You deserve better! This wasn't your fault. Everything was going to be okay._ _I'm sorry I couldn't save him. I'm sorry he's not coming back. I'm sorry that instead of someone who actually deserves this painful task, you got stuck with it. _I could have said anything of those things but I knew they wouldn't have changed a single second of what happened to Gandalf.

Five hundred years old. Perfect physic. Perfect hearing. Perfect skills….and I couldn't help one old man from falling to his death.

Gandalf deserved better from me. Frodo deserved better from me.

Every inch of me wanted the hobbit to take all that blame he was festering and lay it on me. I could handle it, but I wasn't sure he could.

Instead, the hobbit didn't even spare a second of blame on me.

Nodding in response, still crying silently to himself, Frodo simply turned and started leading me back to the group. Steps slow and head down…as if he were walking to the hangman's noose.

* * *

As quick as possible (in light of a paralyzing tragedy and all), Aragorn had the Fellowship jogging away from Moria's base. Thankfully, our need for a timely exit had everyone concentrating on running and not conversing about certain, emotional events. Under our working feet, snowy rocks and sprouts of weed undergrowth gave way to down-flowing waterways. Navigating a steady way down, Aragorn led us to the very base of the mountain face without much trouble or required skill.

In spite of all the sorrow and hopelessness hanging as an umbrella over the Fellowship, the others and I managed to muster up some energy once the surrounding terrain turned from cold stone to fields of lush grass. As the evening sun was beginning to set, we entered into an area marked with healthy green underlay and hundreds of evergreens and oaks. All that reminded us visually of Moria and Balrogs had gone away and given space to beauty and life.

Aragorn and Legolas literally began running toward the forest, which sparked everyone else to pick it up (earlier, Aragorn or someone probably mentioned having to get to a forest before nighttime…but I missed it with all the memory lapsing from stress). Once the Fellowship crossed into the forest's interior, our human leader slowed his roll considerably and we were left with walking through the trees.

Mentally and emotionally beat, I called up to Aragorn, somewhat whining, "Are we stopping to camp soon?"

Yes, the one person in the Fellowship that didn't actually need physical rest was complaining.

"No," he answered back, still glancing up at the trees like they were made of gold, "We must make it to the heart of Lorien. The further into these woods we make it, the less likely orcs are to follow."

Okay…why? As far as my knowledge of the evil one's tiny minions went, orcs really didn't have a beef with running into a place where trees grew and deer frolicked freely.

Too weary to bother inquiring more and just trusting the ranger knew what he was doing, I continued on beside the hobbits and Jacob.

Venturing deeper and deeper into Lorien, a significant detail fought to gain my attention.

The trees were glowing.

Not…you know…glowing!...like a white t-shirt under black lights or a vampire in the sun (my sun, not Middle Earth sun). No, the trees were faintly glowing in a manner as if someone sprayed all the earthly growth with a thin coat of white glitter-spray.

And just as I fixated to ignore this glowing…the humming began. From the ground and the trees and bushes and even the rocks sang a humming as soft as a whisper and melodious as keyboard undertones. It interweaved perfectly with the cool rushing of the rivers and bristling of the winter between the branches and leaves.

I suddenly felt like I was in a New Age recording studio.

_Zaap_!

"Ow!" I yelped and jumped at the unexpected shock in my foot.

All the hobbits and my brother halted and stared up at me in startled fear (apparently it was too soon after a death to shout in pain). My yell even got the rest of the guys to stop and look behind at me. I was busy staring at the ground beneath my feet…wondering how in the heck an electrical shock that strong got through elf-customed boots.

"Are you alright?" Frodo asked.

"Something hit my foot…like electricity," I replied, and then turned to see a bunch of really confused faces.

Oh yeah…no electricity around here.

"Like I got shocked by lighting," I explained electricity as far as their technological advances would allow.

Gimli's red beard sank in a deeper frown. "Elf magic," he growled then cast a glare at Legolas.

"Huh?" my confusion grunted.

Despite the fact that he probably did have a clue about the shock and Gimli's remark (what with being an elf's princess' main squeeze and all), Aragorn insisted we keep going and maintain a cautious air.

Well thanks a ton buddy…as if witnessing the death of our token wizard wasn't causing a heavy dose of paranoia already.

Watching the ground suspiciously, I continued onward with the group and walking mostly on only my toes. Deeper and deeper into Lorien woods we traveled, the humming and glowing not diminishing but growing more evident to the level of radiating some serious mojo into my supernatural-sensitive pores.

Wasn't anyone else catching this?

Nope, they were all too busy either drinking in the awesomeness of the trees (as if all the other forests didn't have them) or silently drowning in despair and mourning.

A few more minutes into the hike, another _Zaap _hit my leg and clenched the muscles. Severely annoyed at the disparity in this shock's obvious preference to vampire, the likelihood of walking around on this forest's ground for a while led me to wanting a possible explanation…and warning if this zapping was going to continue. Skipping ahead of Gimli and Boromir, I came beside His Royal Highness…since Aragorn was busy leading and had shot down my questions before (besides, Elf-ears and I had the moment in Balin's tomb where we saved each others lives – well, he sorta saved mine and I definitely saved his – so I concluded this new chapter in our relationship could include me asking a few questions without him going all prissy).

"Hey," I greeted Legolas, who appeared a tad dazed and very transfixed at backdrop environment (suggesting to the fact that I wasn't the only one noticing some off things about these trees), "Um…so about these trees…they're glowing…and I think the forest is attacking me."

That second comment flipped the daze-switch off and the elf prince stared back at me as if I had just suggested we go hot tubing in our birthday suits (huh…visualizing naked elf…Ack! Stop!).

Raising those perfectly trimmed eyebrows, Legolas asked, "Are you referring to the 'lighting' from before?"

No, I meant the trees suddenly came alive and we duked it out…you're just that oblivious to not have noticed…moron.

"Yes," I replied, holding back on wisecracks, "And I think it has something to do with all the glowing. This place reeks of magic."

"You are able to sense it as well?" He appeared kind of surprised and impressed.

Too glad that he hadn't negated my question to feel insulted at his underestimation of my abilities, I nodded back.

Shifting his gaze up and away from me (have I mentioned I felt like a hobbit when I stood right next to this guy?), the elf again got that dazed countenance and stared hypnotically at our surroundings.

"Great power dwells in the life of Lothlorien (wow…eight words into his explanation and already the helpful helper is using phrases I don't understand)," he explained in an awe-filled voice, drinking in the ground and trees and wilderness abounding, "This is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of this land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey."

By the end of his stanzas, my mouth hung open a little. Sorry, but it's not everyday a total stud (visually…his personality still remains to be desired by certain – cough – parties) lets loose poetry freehand.

Focusing back down to where I was walking beside, he started to smile a little at my expression of utter speechlessness. Realizing how much of a dopey, teen girl I was acting, my mouth snapped shut and I averted my eyes from his sickly, smug face.

"(Cough)…so there's magic going on?" I asked again, "Like Gimli said?"

Refusing to drop his Cheshire-pleased-smile, the walking Id of an elf relieved me of direct eye contact and answered, "Yes, Bella. These woods are protected by an old and deep magic. Wielded by my kin folk."

"Why are they only zapping at me then? What'd I do?"

His sly smile grew wider when he looked back at me. "Perhaps they do not care for vampires in their lord and lady's realm."

Bristling and annoyed at yet another insultive and cryptic answer (apparently Legolas took up Gandalf's torch in that front), I was about to ask whom exactly this 'lord' and 'lady' were when Gimli yelled from behind us, "Pointy ears! Ye speak of the elf sorceress, do ye not?"

As if pulled by gravity, Legolas' small smile turned to a scowl as soon as the term 'pointy ears' left the dwarf's mouth. Personally, all I was worried about was that Gimli, who was usually one of the most levelheaded of our camp, suggested we were in the midst of a sorceress.

Wizards I'd dealt with. Sorceress only brought to mind visuals like Maleficent and the Queen from Snow White (Disney apparently held a vendetta against female authority figures).

"What sorceress?" My feet ceased walking beside Legolas and I waited for Gimli and the hobbits to catch up beside me.

Sorceress…this day seriously did not need another villain. What we needed were some grub and dedicated shut-eye (or mental rest on my part).

"Legend," Gimli's voice got rough and deep, marking the validity of what he said, "says a great elf sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power….All who look upon her fall under her spell…And are never seen again."

Well that's just freakin fantastic.

Maybe after dealing with the elf-witch, we can head over to a dragon's layer and poke at his eyes with our swords. Better yet, let's go to the heart of Sauron's army and invoke a fight with water balloons, because heaven knows we're due another great battle before the day's out.

Gimli's story clearly got the hobbits more paranoid, and I was ready to go dog Aragorn on why he insisted we run full speed into a forest run by a pointy-eared sorceress.

That act also got squashed when I suddenly heard faint heartbeats pop up around the Fellowship several yards off. Blocking out Gimli's ramblings about his dwarf-awesomeness, I listened as about a dozen heartbeats started closing in on us super fast.

"..and the ears of a fox," Gimli bolstered.

The heartbeats continued to impose, and then my nose got a whiff of the creatures' smells.

I knew that scent.

"Aragorn!" I yelled ahead loudly, "There are-"

Arrows heads sharp for the kill emerged like wildfire around our company. Attached to them were bodies with long, blond hair and pointy-ears.

'Elves,' my mind finished pathetically.

"A dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," one of them, not armed and loaded to fire, stepped forward and wasted no time in insulting Gimli's pride.

I wasn't paying much attention to this face-off of races, since Legolas had taken out his bow and armed it to shoot one of the twelve-plus elves ready to kill us. Because our own elf wasn't feeling the love or all that safe with his own kind, my instincts were tuned up for an attach.

For what happened next, please understand the following actions by keeping in mind that we just got done watching one of our leaders (hands-down the most powerful of us all) fall to his death. Needless to say, everyone's nerves were a little out of juice and commonsense was lacking.

So…when I heard the hobbits each give whimpers of fright and their little hearts sped up a good twenty-times faster and then Jacob give a deep growl, I kind of….well…lost it.

Running at full vamp speed, I turned around and snapped the arrow in half that was pointed at my side. Pushing the elf standing to guard me to the ground, I leapt over his falling body and raced to the hobbits. Somewhere in the background, a yell came out but I didn't really pay attention since I was too busy shoving one of the elves guarding the hobbits into another, sending them both sprawling to the ground a few yards over into the trees. The final elf with an arrow pointed at the hobbits sent it shooting my way. Easily dodged it as I flew behind him, grappled his arms to his body, got a hold of his neck, and pushed the elf guard to the ground.

Laying overtop of his three times larger body, my fangs popped out and the sound of elfin blood pumping half an inch below my mouth got the venom to start flowing into my throat.

"Bella! Stop!" Aragorn boomed at me.

Shifting my eyes up, I found every arrow now pointed at my hunched form and most of the Fellowship looking somewhere between shocked (the was Boromir and the hobbits) and majorly ticked (Aragorn).

Jacob wasn't shocked or ticked; actually brother dearest looked ready to start throwing some down from his side of the group. Gimli's face practically radiated jubilance and pride, as if he had this planned all along, and Legolas' face was pretty unreadable…but I did detect an expression of being impressed with my mad vamp skills.

"Bella. Stop," Aragorn repeated his order.

"Not till they lower their weapons," I hissed back stubbornly. No way in hell was I loosing another one before the day was flippin out. Besides, it would have looked really stupid on my part if I suddenly decided to stop attaching people and be friends right after this display without gaining anything. Call me prideful or foolish all you want, I had made my decision and wasn't gonna let up.

"We will not, vampire," the voice from before stepped in, and I found it belonged to an elf with the trademark ears and blond hair…and one honkin big nose. Not an ugly nose…just a really big nose.

Why was I talking about an elf's nose? Man, I needed food and a weeklong break on a beach somewhere far away…and a galloon of blood that reminded me of frozen yogurt.

"Bella-" Aragorn started again slowly, obviously noticing my control slipping away with the seconds.

"No!" I yelled back, venom flying out of my mouth, "Not till they go away!"

_Not till they go away_! For pete's sake…when did I turn fourteen and start up my period again?

In retro speck, something needed to be done fast. I hadn't had a legit meal since before Moria, and an empty stomach mixed with spiraling out-of-control stress would have only ended in bloody disaster. Not to mention all the glowing and humming was really off-putting in my current state of mind.

My head pumping and eyes starting to go red, it really wouldn't have taken much to make me snap and go ape-crazy on the poor elf under me.

'_Bella_.'

For a voice suddenly popping in my head, I reacted fairly well. By this I meant I didn't immediately decapitate the elf-hostage with my fangs.

This control stemmed from living for centuries with a psychotic telepath. True, due to my mental shield, Aro never was able to grasp at my mind (trust me, he made a constant effort of touching me at the very beginning to make sure of it), but I'd witnessed him use the ability many times on vampires, humans, and werewolves.

'Who are you?' my mind's voice asked. Already I had marked the voice as probably female, though its wispy, echoing tone could have confused the gender.

'_I am Galadriel, the Lady of Lorien and wife of Celeborn, the Lord of this forest_.'

Not to mention someone with the ability to telepathically talk to people...nope, not worth mentioning.

'Wouldn't happen to know an elf sorceress around these parts? Would you?'

'_I am the protector of this realm_,' was the only answer she granted me in a firm but gentle tone, '_Release my guard. These are my servants. They mean you no harm_.'

Oh…then what was with all the arrow pointing? A little too much hyper vigilance showing off the latest in archery models?

Apparently my big, wide hesitation to do what the face-less voice in my head commanded became clear since she continued on in that airy voice.

'_I have shown hospitality to those you love, Bella Swan. Show the same mercy to those who are mine._'

Creasing my eyebrows, I tried to work out what she meant by 'those you love.' Again, I didn't even need to ask.

'_Since your arrival in Imladris, the Olympic coven has been staying in Lothlorien as my guests. They are treated with grace and honor from my people_.'

Olympic coven? She meant the Cullen family!

'Can I see them?' I asked once I realized that Carlisle and Esme and the rest were within a day's time from where I was on the ground.

'_Perhaps…_' she paused for a moment, '_The hobbit you travel with brings great danger to my people. Go with my Marchwarden, and he shall care for your Fellowship while I seek out the wisdom of this risk. You shall be treated kindly as long as you trust us_.'

With that I felt the Lady Galadriel's presence leave my mind.

The elf sorceress' telepathic convo left my stress level considerably lower. Glancing around, I realized everyone's attention was till fixated on whatever my next move turned out as. Taking a deep (unneeded) breath, mentally preparing for some serious verbal lashing from Aragorn later on, I retracted my fangs and climbed off the poor elf guard. My victim started grasping his neck as he got unsteadily upright as well.

"Sorry about that," I mumbled at the elf, knowing it would do no good. As long as I was within arrow distance of him, I for sure was on his hit list. Turning forward, I finally faced Aragorn, who looked somewhere between an hyper-anxious meltdown and volcanic anger episode (he managed to do this without even showing all that much expression…tis his way, I believe).

Big nose elf stepped past the steaming range to get his own chance of glaring in hatred at me. "Vampire," he greeted me like the word tasted as cow dung, "I have been informed to tolerate your…reaction to our presence (three guesses who the telepath behind that order was). Understand, though, such an attack shall not go undefended again."

I nodded, feeling a smig bad for beating someone up in order to work out my pented up hostility towards dwarf caves and ancient demons. "Understood," I assured him, mentally promising myself to not make another dramatic spectacle while in Lothlorien.

Granting me one more warning glare, Big nose elf addressed all the Fellowship. "I am Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlorien's northern borders," he explained, "The Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel bid you stay among the northern guard this night. Orcs are crossing in from Moria. You shall need our protection."

Apparently this guy was the elfin forest's model of Rambo. I almost expected him to smear some finger paint under his eyes and tell us to stay down and keep close.

In an anti-climatic alternative, though, Haldir lined us up like a bunch of freakin four year olds and led us further down the way we already were headed. Unlike last time, with Gimli's boosting and everyone gazing around like a bunch of shroom addicts, the elfin escort had our nerves in even more of a twist (if possible), so no one really said or did anything expect follow along silently, keeping an eye out to make sure not to run into the person in front of them and not to touch the closest elf (except Legolas…not that anyone should be touching him anyway).

In light of recent outbursts from certain members of the party (who shall remain nameless….but were pretty justifiable in their actions if one were to analyze the situation un-biasly), the elves right beside me were keeping a good breath of distance while shifting their eyes in my direction every three seconds. The hobbits, on the other hand, were still not at all comfortable enough to trolley along with these folks and kept pretty close to Jacob and I.

The internal clock in my brain must have gone haywire in Moria, since the sunset came unexpectedly fast. Within an hour of being ambushed by Haldir and his crew, day had settled into dusk. Night eloped the forest and those buggy-cricket-frog sounds that always trumpet out after dark started their evening symphony lineup.

Not long after nightfall, we came to an area of exceptionally tall and wide trees much like the Redwoods back home. As we stopped at the base, I looked up and found several lights flickering in scattered position throughout the treetops' roof over the forest. Along with the flickering lights, my enhanced vision picked up moving shapes of grown men (most likely elves) moving around silently near the lights on flats built into the trees that meshed quite well with the natural habitat.

At the front of our train, Haldir motioned at an elf beside him (who resembled him quite a bit) who walked up to the tree in front of us and made a very cricket-sounding noise. Seconds later, the elf stepped back and down dropped a rope ladder.

Oh freakin gosh. We're bunking at an elfish tree house tonight? Someone better give me a newspaper captain's hat and tell me the secret password before I head up there. Do they allow girls or is this one of those _Boys Only_ clubs?

Yeah, I needed mental help.

Taking Haldir's cue, Aragorn directed Legolas to lead everyone up since he wanted to take the rear and ensure everyone's safety (not to mention, Legolas was probably the only one he trusted not to slip climbing up and make all of us look foolish in front of Galadriel's Marchwarden…we may be dead tired and all out of magic beans, but we're still the Fellowship of the Ring by golly!).

I turned and looked down at the four hobbits. "You guys alright climbing up?" I asked, taking in their hollow, baggy eyes and limp figures. These midgets looked ready to collapse at a gust of wind.

Sam observed Frodo for a moment then stepped up. "I am well, Miss Bella," he assured me, trying to keep his chin high and eyes bright, "But if you could take Master Frodo-"

"No, Sam," Frodo insisted, "I will not be carried while the rest of you climb."

Merry and Pippin jumped in on fighting that their friend, Bearer of the Ring that he was, take the opportunity to not have to climb himself up three hundred plus feet. While Frodo argued back stubbornly, the corner of my eye caught Haldir and that elf beside him whispering in elfish about something that must have included Jake since they were gesturing and staring at him inquisitively.

I walked over to where Aragorn stood overseeing everything and asked if he could hear what was going on. Having not noticed the little tête-à-tête, he said something to Haldir in elfish (weird to hear it coming from a non-elf).

In a language we all understood, Haldir answered, "My brother, Rumil (he motioned at the elf beside him…knew they looked a lot alike!), informed me that there may be a predicament in bringing your wolf up to the filets (huh?). It may have to stay on the forest floor for the night."

Abandon Jacob? (Snort) Yeah, that will happen…on the same day I tell Aro about the secret crush I've been harboring for him all these years.

"If you have a pair of pants," I replied, not waiting to see what Aragorn would have said (not to be rude, but Jake and all things werewolf were my territory), "He can phase back into a real boy."

This reply got a growl from my brother for the "real boy" bit, and a curved eyebrow from Big Nose (note to self: never tell the twins about that nickname…I will probably get shot repeatedly with arrows from the Marchwarden).

"Pants?" he repeated.

"Yeah," I shrugged, blowing off his confusion, "Unless, of course, you want my brother to hang around your men all night in all his naked glory…He could probably piss on the orcs as they passed by beneath us."

Frowning in slight disgust at the final part of what I said (don't care…this guy already wasn't getting a Christmas card, and the comment made Gimli give a holler of laughter), Haldir whisper something elfish to Rumil, who in turn got onto the rope ladder and scurried up like a monkey on crack. After a quick wait, the elf slid back down the ladder with a pair of slacks hanging over his shoulder. Apparently not wanting to come near the psychotic vampire girl, he threw them at me to catch.

Pants in hand, I turned towards my brother who was already moaning a little at beginning the phasing process. Once again, everyone in seeing distance stopped and watched my brother turn from immensely large wolf to well built young man.

"Here," I held out the clothing item, looking away so I didn't have to see little-Jake between the legs.

"Good to go, Bells," Jacob said to me finally, in a voice I missed a heck of a lot.

Facing him again, I saw my brother in human form. Hair at all ends. Face and torso slashed and bruised in large patches all over. Tired and worn out. Shirtless…as usual. All of it, though, my brother up and down.

"Long time no see," I smiled a little, not giving a darn who saw as I stepped over and hugged the heck out of my brother. Taking in the feel of his human form, I enjoyed a moment totally surrounded by the arms of my best friend and the sound of his steady, very alive heartbeat.

I welcomed the dog smell.

"You hair is a sight, Bells," he mumbled as he hugged, "And you smell like road kill."

Giving his side a small punch (which gained an "ummph"), my smiled widened and I released myself from Jacob's hold.

That usually boyish glint in his eyes (though I saw undertones of worriment and definite exhaustion), Jacob cocked his head towards the four midgets. "Shall we get these boys up to the tree house?" my brother asked.

"For sure," I agreed happily, a familiar and well missed warmth in my dead heart at having my brother back in human growing with every passing second.

With the help of Boromir and Aragorn, each hobbit was able to get piggy-backed up to the "filets" without incident.

Then, out of some sadistic revenge, Haldir had us all line up. Feeling the empty hollowness of my stomach start to ache even more, I swallowed back the venom gathering in my throat and tried to focus on something else. To relax my hunger, I started breathing deeply (felt my lungs cramp a little from neglect of use) but that only got the venom to pump faster. Swallowing the sweet liquid again, I anxiously ran a hand down my hair.

Mistake.

Within moments, my fingers got caught in the dried up, frizzed out mess that was once my nicely braided hair. Tugging a little, I tried to free my hand but stopped the moment I felt a few hairs pull out of my scalp.

Downside of vampirism – you only get one set of body hair (which, on the upside, meant no more shaving).

So, as Haldir and Legolas put their hands to their hearts and exchanged what I guessed were elfish greetings, I stood there like an albino clown with her hand on her head.

"Bella, put your hand down," Boromir whispered out the side of his mouth.

Tug. Tug. Nope, not coming out.

Haldir then greeted Aragorn (again, in elfish). Once he was finished with all the members of our company fluent in his native tongue, Big nose took another look at the rest of us. Quickly (what with a girl pulling on her hair like a un-medicated schizophrenic patient), he focused in on me and scowled again.

"Vampire-" he started to say, while I felt the need to go jump off the stupid filet and run until I found the nearest Bath and Body Works (or fall to my doom…either one would have worked).

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves!" Gimli (helmet off for once in his life) interrupted, displeasure pretty clear in his words, "The lass has a name, ye know. Ye don't have to keep referring to 'er as 'vampire'. Unless, of course, ye're gonna go around callin' me 'dwarf' and them 'hobbits'. Oh and do try to speak words we can all understand!"

I seriously could have kissed that dwarf if I wasn't wavering on whether he would have responded some way with his beloved axe.

In a flash, Haldir's focus went from me and my hair problems to Gimli.

"We have not had dealings with the dwarfs, since the Dark Days," Haldir spat out; with apparent and deep disgust at even having to acknowledge Gimli's presence.

While Haldir said his piece, Jake leaned over to my ear and whispered, "Hey, sis. Don't know if you've noticed…but the Marchwarden seems not too cool with the idea of a vampire here, and you're more worried about your hair."

"I can't get my hand out!" I seethed, holding back the urge to push my brother off the filet and leap off after him.

Twisting his mouth to hide a smile and snorting, Jacob reached up and slowly worked my fingers out of the bundles of knots. Wincing silently as a few more strands got pulled out, I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally freed me from self-captivity.

"Thanks," I smiled.

"No problem," he waved it off (clearly the entertainment my hair provided was thanks enough) then suddenly went serious in the face, "Umm…Bells, you need to eat. ASAP."

Clearly the hollowness of my stomach was making itself known in my eyes. Wouldn't have surprised me if they were almost completely black at this point.

Facing beyond me, where Haldir and Gimli (who was pulled back and getting an earful from Aragorn…what'd I miss?) were still showing their mutual affection with intense glowering, Jacob called out to the Marchwarden, "Hey, Lord Haldir. Bella here needs to eat something."

Attention from the lot snapped over to us. Scowling some more (his default mode apparently), Haldir stated fiercely, "I will not allow a vampire to run free in milord and lady's realm. Nor (he faced Frodo this time…same scowl) shall I allow such evil to go any further."

Frodo? What the…oh, he meant the powerful Ring of Evil in Frodo's pocket. Gotcha.

"Wait a second," I stepped up, snapping to angry-face mostly due to my intensifying hunger and continued annoyance towards Big nose and all his hospitable scowling, "I'm pretty sure Galadriel said she was gonna think over allowing the Ring into Lothlorien."

Eyes widening to match the size of his honker, Haldir was silent then got an expression of disbelief, "When did the Lady Galadriel speak to you of these matters, vampire?"

Again with the 'vampire' bit? Alright, now I was pissed on top of starving.

"When I was about to dig my fangs in your friend's throat," I almost screamed back, "She got into my head and asked me to let him live and said she knew the Ring was headed your way."

"You heard the voice as well?" Frodo questioned me, his voice small, curious and a little scared.

Before this entire ordeal of telepathic elves and certain people's bigotry toward vampires and dwarfs got out of control and we all got kicked off the filet, Aragorn stepped up as the Ranger with the voice of reason. "Haldir," he stepped in front of me to take away the Marchwarden's line of sight, "Allow Bella to go hunting for a time. She will stay close and not go further than you will, upon my word it shall be so. Then let us speak of these other matters."

Oh, I see your strategy, Aragorn. Get the hormonal, hungry vampire out of the way while you butter up Big Nose.

In Haldir's mind, I could guess he was mentally balancing his loyalty to Galadriel's will and his distrust and distaste towards snappy vampires with hobo hair.

"Very well," he acceded, "Mistress _Bella_ (he stressed the word so nobody could call out different) may hunt, but only among the close area. And she is to avoid the orcs. We need not have them find out our position."

Lowering my chin a half-inch in thanks, I turned and walked over to the edge. Ignoring the elf who held out a hand to help me onto the rope ladder, I leapt from the tree house setup onto a tree several yards away.

Listening carefully, I located my pre-meal target.

An orc heartbeat. About a mile away.

Allowing the flow of venom to pool in my mouth, I flew off the tree, toward another closer to the doomed victim.

'This one's for you, Gandalf,' I thought to myself as the red of my mind started to take over.

* * *

_AN: Alrighty folks. Bella and the Fellowship are getting into Galadriel's territory…and there may be some upcoming instances with the Cullen family. Keep on reviewing. I love all of it and really take in your comments. Love._


	15. There Once was A Smelly Vampire

_Disclaimer: I like my life…it doesn't include the burden of owning Lord of the Rings or Twilight characters or plotlines._

Chapter 14: Lothlorien – Part I – Take me to your leader…then to the shower room…or maybe the other way around

I was worried.

Legolas was smiling…and I mean _really _smiling.

As in 'I was looking around for who put amphetamines in his morning coffee' smiling.

Why worried about this usually positive happenstance, you ask?

Well, for one thing, this was the first time I'd ever seen him show teeth for longer than ten seconds (elves seemed to carry a balanced temperament…when not being overwhelmed by goblins and whatnot). According to my basic knowledge on elfish behavior, extreme emotions were not common for the pointy-eared beings…at least not in expressing them. So this whole rainbows-and-butterflies attitude held merit for its awkwardness.

Second, extreme happiness in no way fit the mood that stunk up the air of the morning we awoke (or became active again in my case). The entire night had been spent tossing and turning, small gaps of quiet sobs, Sam begging Frodo to actually fall asleep, and me mentally replaying the death of five orcs I killed during last night's hunt (I didn't feel guilty…just worried that maybe one of Big Nose' guards caught me throwing bodies into the river's rapids). Basically the entire Fellowship got really crappy sleep – except Jake (who could sleep through a plane crash…trust me, he's actually done it). So we all awoke with puffy eyes and grim faces…a hoard of bunny rabbits could have overrun us at this point.

Along with exhaustion, the morning sun also brought a brand new wave of despair and overall negativity.

The hobbits were either still deeply depressed, scared out of their wits, or anxious over Frodo's current mental health (that last one was mostly carried by Samwise). Boromir was getting frigidity over something mulling around in his head, and spent his time pulling and beating on his armor or frowning every time Aragorn showed off his sweet elfish language skills (apparently the Steward of Gondor never insisted on schooling his heir on that ability). Speaking of our newly instated head-honcho, Aragorn was the first to rise and immediately started the day off with conversing about this and that with Haldir (hopefully pleading that we all miss the whole introducing us to the elfish sorceress part of the Lothlorien tour and giving us another two days of sleep and rest).

As I said before, Legolas awoke and skipped around (okay, he didn't actually skip…but if there had been room on the filet I guarantee he would have)…with a big, fat smile on his face. Practically giggling with glee at being immersed with his own kind again.

As I laid there, on one of the cots spread out by the guards for our sleeping necessity, people around me groaned and moaned as they awoke to another bright sunny day in the enchanted forest.

"Damned elves. Don't know how they sleep on these damned things. Back will be killin' me till Mordor."

Cracking a grin at Gimli's complaining, I kept my eyes shut and stayed still beside Jacob while everyone else stretched and blinked their eyes as the rising sun.

After conversing with Haldir for a few minutes, Aragorn turned to his quarry (us) and announced we were to be leaving in less than twenty minutes. "By sundown," he went on, "We shall be in Caras Galadhon. The home of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel."

Crap. We were going to meet the sorceress. Note to self: stay away from apples and spinning wheels…wait, I think that second one was a bad fairy and not sorceress…whatever, if she has green skin, I'm grabbing Frodo and zipping him all the way to Mount Doom…screw Aragorn's hospitality appreciation clause.

"Orc dung," the dwarf growled under his breath (my sentiments exactly, friend).

Perhaps if I stayed still long enough, they'd all think me dead and leave me behind to kill a few hundred orcs.

"Bella. Jacob. Arise and ready yourselves," Aragorn ordered as his towering body cast a shadow over our heads.

Crap.

Opening my eyes, I stared up through the branches to the clear sky overhead. Again, the trees and leaves glowed faintly alongside a gentle hum. Breathing in and out the life of the forest that surrounded us.

This was the sort of stuff fairytales were made of. Lucky me.

Hopping to my feet, I touched my hair again to see if it had magically straightened out and became less mucked up overnight, qualifying me as a candidate for the beautiful damsel character of this story. The crusty shell of wadded up knots I fingered through daintily took me out of the running unfortunately.

Cripes, I needed a bath. Sniffing the air tentatively, I included the entire Fellowship on that thought. Was Haldir honestly going to allow us to meet his superiors smelling like an old morgue filled with pig feces?

A muffled snore broke my thoughts on bleach and scrubbing, so I looked down at my brother who was still sound asleep on his cot.

Smelly, stomach churning from too much orc blood in the past few days, and basically stressed beyond my limits, I didn't even call out his name again to wake him before my boot smacked Jake square in his ever-exposed stomach.

"Uggg!" he jolted awake in pain. Focusing his eyes, he gazed up at me in confusion that gave way to severe annoyance pretty quickly. "What the hell, Bella!?" he asked in a raspy, dry voice.

I shrugged. "Sorry," I replied, not too serious about the remorse part of apologizing, "Crappy morning proceeded by a few crappy weeks."

"Come!" Legolas practically danced around us with singular energy, "We must start for Caras Galadhon if we are to see it by sundown!" With that, His Royal Highness leapt onto the rope ladder and slide down to the forest ground.

I shook my head in disbelief after him.

Seriously, who was dealing the shrooms?

Finally the Fellowship was up and ready for departure. I volunteered to piggy-back Pip down the tree, and bent down so the little guy could climb on when a roar erupted from behind.

"I'll be damned before that happens!"

Whipping our heads around, Pippin and I saw Gimli's bright red face glare up at Haldir who was eyeing fireballs right back at the dwarf. Aside the warring two was a very uncomfortable Aragorn, tensed up and watching both creatures with apprehension.

"Gimli," Aragorn softly said to his companion, "Please-"

"It's an insult, Aragorn!" the dwarf shouted back before the ranger could finish, "An insult to m' honor! An insult to m' name!"

Peering up at me, Pippin whispered, "What do you think happened?"

Shrugging, I motioned for the hobbit to wait as I decided to act on the unwise choice of stepping into the scene of hostility. Calmly walking over to the other side of the filet, I approached the three and placed a happy grin on my face (you ever get to that point of slight insanity where a big problem pops up and instead of your usual reasoning, you just plant a smile on your face and say 'Screw it. Life sucks today anyway. Might as well express my mental breakdown to others'?…yeah, I was at that point). Only Aragorn appeared to acknowledge me, and expressed some wariness. Per the usual response of a man born and bred to be large and in charge, his expression was one of "go away and let me handle this!" (So silly mortal, do ye not know loony vampires are impervious to your expressions?...Not to mention I would have ignored it as a mentally capable mortal anyway).

"Hey guys," I greeted the scowling dwarf and Marchwarden nonchalantly, "What's cha doin?"

Gimli held no qualms in getting me involved, since he immediately thundered out, "This pointy-eared, mistrustful goat demands I wear a blindfold! He says a dwarf can't be trusted with the location of their beloved city."

I quenched the snicker tempting to erupt at Haldir being called a "goat," and nodded saying, "I see." Then, turning my attention to the big nosed "goat," a single eyebrow raised as if to question, 'A blindfold? Really? Do you not think that a tad extreme?'

Finally turning his head away from the vein-bursting dwarf, the Marchwarden eyed me and replied to my accusing look, "We mean nothing personal against Master Gimli-"

"The hell ye' don't, laddy!"

"Gimli!"

"-but," Haldir continued after Aragorn, "We have not allowed a member of the dwarf race in Caras Galadhon since the awakening of the balrog. (really?...you're honestly using that as a time of reference I would recognize?...doesn't anyone realize I do not possess encyclopedic knowledge on all things Middle Earth!?) Already the White Lady and Her Lord show apprehension to the Ring of Power into their realm. Allowing a dwarf and vampire to enter without precautions will no doubt create greater fear than that which already whispers through these woods."

To some degree I understood his reasoning…wait…did he just say dwarf _and _vampire?

Placing greater warning into his stare towards me, Aragorn confirmed in an even tone, "The Border Guard has requested you wear a blindfold as well, Bella."

Snort. Yeah, that'll happen.

Crossing my arms and stepping back in protest, I gave the snide remark, "You can _try_ to get a blindfold on me."

Now his warning was tipping on furiousness at my blatant disregard for political politeness, and Aragorn faced Gimli and I, possibly ready to kick us both off the team.

To be honest, I wasn't in my greatest state of emotional stability that morning…what with wanting a hot bath and soap so badly I would have waltzed with Legolas to get it…still, I'm not quite positive I was resolved enough to get kicked off the Fellowship just for the sake of my pride.

Gimli, on the other hand, I could have seen going the distance.

Species hatred can be a scary thing.

Gritting his teeth, Aragorn's face fell and he closed his eyes with a sigh. Rubbing a very possible headache pounding into his temple, the fatigue crawling through his bones made itself known as he pulled out the Ace of all Ace cards.

"Gandalf would have willed you both do this," he gave us both a not-quite-pleading face, "For the sake of Frodo and our mission."

I felt the big, hot air filled pride bubble in my chest go POP.

I, a trusted and very able protector of the One Really Big Evil Ring of Ultimate Destruction, was going to wear a freakin blindfold today.

Crap.

At least, they allowed Gimli and I to get down the stupid tree first.

Apparently, in respect to Legolas and his manic bipolar mood, Caras Galadhon is a pretty awesome sight to behold. I can't convey a totally unbiased report on the view of Galadriel's home, since Pippin (who was more than pleased to hold my hand and act as my eyes as Haldir marched the Fellowship over the river and through the woods) practically was at a loss of words to describe the heart of Elvendom (Haldir's words…not mine…'Elvendom' isn't even a word).

Thanks to the Fellowship's chronic depression, no one had an appetite so we never stopped for food breaks and made it to the heart of Lothlorien before sunset. Stepping out before the ground dipped into a valley, the view caused all non-Lothlorien natives (save the blindfolded of us) to gasp. My skin did drum up the humming a tad more as we started down into the valley area.

I felt the sun's heat start to really disappear when Haldir halted the group and allowed the blindfolds to be removed.

The sight around us kept Gimli and mine's tongue from giving off a few well-deserved curses.

Caras Galadhon's landscape easily took the cake for the tallest trees in existence. Dozens of them, each a football field wide in radius, rose as tall as small mountains. Built beautifully in spirals going up the trees were stairways that ran off into bridges and large filets that acted as tree houses large enough for viability.

Literally, it was a city in the trees.

Leading us through the bases of the giant trees, Haldir finally started up one of the staircases. We followed in a pace slow enough that the sun was down by the time we hit the halfway point. As soon as night fell, the city in the trees alit itself with hundreds of white lamps that appears as stars floating among the windows and roofs of the tree houses.

Walking behind Pippin and in front of Merry (Legolas led after the Marchwarden…apparently acting as liaison since he qualified for the pointy-eared requirement…and Jacob and the rest of the taller folks took up the rear after myself and the hobbits)…I could feel the eyes of hundreds of elves stare at us from their homes and building's balconies.

Not usually all that concerned with my appearance, it did irk me to have to present myself to a bunch of clean, great smelling beauty queens and kings (all with well-brushed, flowing blonde hair and wearing soft pastel outfits) with a rat's nest for hair and orc gut stains on my clothes and under my fingernails.

Once again, thanks be to God for taking away my ability to blush.

Making our way past prying eyes, Haldir stepped aside and motioned us to enter a particularly large tree house lit up with so many lamps, every part of the white wood glowed like moonlight.

For a moment, I looked around with everyone else at the glorious realm, but stopped when something caught my vamp senses.

It…she…she was definitely a she. She smelled old…and yet new. Like an elf…except…more…elfish. That humming that had carried through our entire journey since entering Lothlorien sailed into my ears as a soft song filled with air and life. There were no words, only waves of an energy that was pure and clean. Strong yet gentle in its touch.

I breathed in the scent of power, instantly feeling a hundred times more refreshed. Even standing this close to her felt as if laying down on the softest bed comforter.

Warm and safe.

Then, as if walking out of light itself, stepped two beings as unearthly tall as the trees their home was built upon.

The pair definitely consisted of a male and female. As they walked down the steps from the above chamber of the tree house, a hand gently clasped to the other, my awe of them swept away any self-conscious shame in gazing over them as if memorizing a masterpiece on the wall.

The male was reached a height slightly taller than his partner. His face was handsome and filled with that ageless manifested elder and youth. Similar to most other elves I'd encountered, his expression didn't give anything away but it wasn't as inquisitive and severe as Elrond's had been. Long, trademark blond hair reached down and rested on the silver and blue robe that managed to appear more regal than creepy. In fact, this guy's outfit would border on pajamas if not for his no-nonsense, All-Powerful demeanor.

Trust me, you did not want to suggest to this guy that his wardrobe reminded you of a dojo or that one protest in the sixties with John Lennon and Yoko in bed.

He might look more serious and magical and then the world would implode within itself.

Any threat of implosion, though, was way more possible with the lady at this guy's side. Remember how Arwen glowed the first time we met in the library? Well, her visual radiance compares to this female elf like a flam on a match would to flames engulfing a skyscraper.

The lady glowed so much one would expect to find a midget elf behind her with a spotlight shining to frame her figure.

A tower of sweeping gold hair and pearl white tresses of cloth spilled gently to the ground, the ringlet crown on her head wasn't gaudy or presumptuous. It's gold sat across the elf-lady's forehead as a frank and quiet statement to this couple's undeniable rank of regal nobility.

Beyond nobility in fact…the lady and elf-lord combined afforded power and life so adamantly, it felt as if we had stepped into the heart of a glowing star.

Don't ask me what the color of their eyes were though…no way was I going there. Actually, once my brain caught up with my eyes drinking in the elf pair, I shot my face away and began taking a keen interest in the way the tree branches grew around the gazebo type structure of the tree house.

"The Enemy knows you have entered here," the male-elf laid it straight out to us. What he said got me to stare back at the pair, wondering if this threat meant we were about to be thrown out (I wonder if there would be time for a quick dunk in the river beforehand?…seriously, it would only take a minute to do). Eyes fixed in the blue robed elf, my companions and I waited warily on where this statement was going.

He continued, expression neither fearful nor tormented as he read over each of our dim and dirty faces, "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone (well that blows…give us crappy news, tell us all hope is gone, and then kick us to the curb…yep, Lothlorien, the place I want to vacation). Ten there are here, yet eleven there were, set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf?"

Pause.

I'm pretty certain my jaw hung at that question. Seriously…this guy was apparently romantically involved (that hand-holding as they were coming down the stairs _was not_ to keep her from tripping on her gown) with a telepath chalk-full of magic-filling (not to mention, he certainly gave off quite a bit of his own supernatural whammy), and he didn't know that the one wizard we brought along was dead?

Twisting my head to get a good look at where Haldir stepped aside to give his superiors a clean shot at us weary travelers, I caught his eye and shook my head a little with a somewhat peeved off visage that veered on disappointment at his lack of noticing the _non-freakin-attendance_ of a tall, bearded guy with a pointy hat and staff.

Predictively, he just sneered back a little and returned to revering the glowing couple.

Well sorry, buddy. I wasn't aware your one duty in life was to find out if visitors were carrying around rings of uber-evil-powers and then tell them to go screw-off.

"I much desire to speak with him," elf-lord without a clue went on, "I can no longer see him from afar."

Well this was about to get awkward.

'_Hey, bad news, but…we kinda let Gandalf fall off a ledge to his doom, and he didn't have his magical staff so there was no magical Glinda-type bubble to float him back up to safety…Yeah…So…How about a room for the night?_'

Yeah, I wasn't the one to make that announcement.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land," tall, mystical elf-lady said, speaking as if she was reading it off a piece of paper just found, "He has fallen into shadow."

Then came the pregnant pause of another wave a drowning despair when something very terrible and very real is brought into raw attention once again. All the Fellowship's eyes (mine included) sank to the ground, unable to bear meeting another's for fear the sorrow would collapse the shaky calm holding our frail hope and courage together.

"He…He was taken," a strong voice to my immediate right shook slightly as it drawled out the words with evident pain.

Earlier today, Legolas' quality of happiness had both irked and surprised me. At hearing his attempt to divulge the truth of Gandalf's fate, again I felt shock at being introduced to a new depth of his character. There was such sorrow and mourning in his voice. Sliding my gaze to the elf's face, for what was really the first time since leaving Moria I took time to notice the bruises that lined his cheek and dried up scrapes in his perfect eyebrows. His sea blue eyes were no longer alert and searching the premise for unfound dangers, but tired and too firm…holding back the pain that pounded on gates to be let out.

My chest started to swell with pain as I discovered how very much in mourning Gandalf's death brought upon Legolas. I guess I never really thought about what he meant to the elf. Because Gandalf never really got concerned over Legolas' safety like he did for Frodo or the other hobbits, or how he would always take Aragorn aside for super-secret-leader meetings, I figured Legolas and Gandalf didn't really know each other before this quest.

The melancholy brooding in the crevices of Legolas' eyes, lips, and face as well as beating down on his chest screamed back that I was so very, very wrong to make that assumption.

Swallowing and turning his gaze away for a moment, a need spear-headed through me for a second to grab his arm and urge him to continue. That I would give my strength to him for this small task. Instead, I positioned my weight away in fear that I might actually act and started chewing on my lip. "He was taken by both Flame and Shadow," Legolas found the courage to continue, his eyes back on the couple and drawing from un-hesitated hatred at the demon that took our wizard as he spoke of it, "A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

Hearing the name of the actual place, my brain pulled attention away from Legolas' hanging head and took a glance at Gimli. Sure enough, the name of his deceased cousin's home (the place he so ardently supported marching into) wrote guilt and shame all over the dwarf.

Again, another of my quarry blamed themselves for the death of Gandalf. Frodo's face was diseased with it since we started towards Lothlorien. Legolas clearly was hurting with some shame (though, don't ask me how any of this was he fault). I'd bet money everyone else probably found someway to put themselves in the guilty chair for Gandalf's death.

Didn't they all see it was really my fault for not acting?

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," the lady contradicted Legolas gently but firmly, "We do not yet know his whole purpose. Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin. For the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands, love is now mingled with grief."

We all were now watching her. Literally hanging on every word…because in a way we had to. This wasn't some philosophical blowhard reading off a fortune cookie. It wouldn't have surprised me in the least if these two were old enough to have known the world before grief was a normal occurrence.

I wonder what that did to someone's hope in creation? Watching it fall from the pillar of glory it once stood so proudly upon?

'_Even in your short years of immortality, Bella, you know the answer to that question.'_

My searching gaze into nothingness sprang alive and I looked up at the female elf standing gracefully tall and serene…as if you'd never guess she possessed the ability to speak into someone's mind.

Cocking my head to the side, I thought back with clear mental wording (I'd admit, the prideful side of Bella wanted to prove a telepathy card wasn't anything new to the table), 'Aww…so _you_ are Galadriel, the Lady of Lorien.'

Despite her gaze fixed on Sam for the moment, I caught a slight inching of a grin on Galadriel's mouth when she apparently heard this. Confirming her identity to me. For a moment, I thought back to her reply and pondered its meaning. Yes, in over five hundred years I'd seen joyful things turn to grief.

Forks, the town I once called home, after returning every several decades for short visits, I watched the generations of descendants of my old friends and Jacob's tribe move away. The town slowly dwindled as families left for cities or greener pastures, until eventually the place my house once stood was the guard post of a nuclear plant that sat over half of town's limits.

Landmarks for the few memories I enjoyed no longer existed.

Even more personal was my relationship with the Cullens. I loved them, true, but underlining each time they came to my house in Iceland or I ventured to Alaska or Canada or wherever they were setting up shop, there rumbled the old fights, unspoken apologies, sorrow at the very fact that we all were living long enough in a sad state of blood thirsty immortals. We loved each other yet could not let go of the love of the life that could have been as mortals.

For Edward and I, this underlining agitation at being around one another was always at its worst.

Speaking of the Cullens…

'You mentioned before!' my mind formed the words in a mental voice that sounded like me yelling (what!?...I had no idea how telepathy worked…were their noise volumes…if I thought in a quiet tone, maybe she wouldn't hear me), 'When…things occurred…negative things…that the Olympic coven was hanging around!'

This time, Galadriel directed her gaze towards me with shocking blue eyes full of mirth. Apparently my need to be heard by mentally shouting was hilarious to a seasoned mental-communicator. Smiling slightly for a second, she sombered up and went back to saying whatever to the rest of the group.

'_You need not shout so loud, young one_,' her voice in my head was clearly laughing, _'And yes, I spoke truth to you the day before. Master Carlisle, his mate and coven have awaited your arrival with anticipation for some time. They were very pleased when word came of the Fellowship's presence in Caras Galadhon_.'

Hearing the Cullen's excitement at seeing me brought the mental picture of Alice's probable reaction of literally jumping up and down and talking a million words a second…that brought an amused smile to my face. Clearing away the morbid thoughts from before about all the garbage in my family's history (please…introduce me to the one family in existence without garbage and I'll give you every penny in every Swiss bank account I hold), I allowed the aching pain in my chest to give way to growing, joyful anticipation of being with the Cullen's again.

Carlisle would enjoy stories about Imladris (the thought of him and Elrond actually becoming suedo-intellectual-friends wasn't that farfetched). I'm positive he was just drinking up this entire alternative-realm experience. Note to self: remember to take him aside while I was in Lothlorien and tell about the Balrog (that was one experience I'm sure he'd analyze without freaking out…not sure the same could be said about everyone else).

Jasper and Emmett I would for sure share tales about all the fighting and orc-slaying.

Esme…from her a hug would suffice (the thought of a proper hug at the moment made me all the more ready to get this whole meet-and-greet over with…touch wasn't usually my thing, but these days hadn't been all that usual).

Rosalie and Alice would probably want to show me all the awesome gowns…hold up! Remembering how vanity-fixed my girlfriends were immediately brought to mind my rat-nest hair. Reaching a hand up and padded the gunky mess again, I almost moaned at how much crap I was in for when those two got sight of my current state.

Ongoing orcs battles or not…I would never hear the end of it. Alice might have even deemed me unfit to have hair and attempt to shave it all off. Shudder.

"Go now and rest," Galadriel bade us with a slight raise of her arm in direction towards the exit (yeah!...we got the thumbs up for staying).

I missed the rest of what she said since her voice, still very amused at my freaking out (the other's minds were probably not dwelling on their inevitable doom awaiting them from two high maintenance female vampires due to their grudged up battle appearance). _'Bella, if you wish to clean up before meeting with the Olympic coven…I would not find that request unwise,'_ the elf sorceress' mind slanted a little at the second portion of her thought, suggesting she understood, to some degree, why I was suddenly so worried about my stupid hair.

I snorted a little at the idea of Alice and Rosalie leaving a lasting impression of a powerful elf noblewoman. 'So Rosalie and Alice's impeccable sense of fashion is known in these parts, I'm guessin?' my mind replied.

The elf lady simply sent a smile my way.

Oh yeah, my sisters made themselves known.

'_I will have someone lead you to a bath once your company is led out,'_ was all she allowed back.

"Yeah!" I cheered a little loudly, fisting my hand in a victory pound.

Both Legolas and Jake sent me weirded out looks on their tired faces…I shrugged them off and dreamed about my upcoming salvation of water and soap.

Aragorn bowed – cueing the rest of us to bow – and then followed Haldir's lead out of the royal tree house. Seeing as how room and board had been secured for the night, the overall feel of the group turned from a rigid front of nervousness to relief and eagerness to finally get rest. We passed through the arch doorway and were about to get onto the bridge to another tree stairway when, out from the corner, a tall radiant female elf approached.

Hair blonde (Arwen and the twins must be diamonds in the rough with their dark locks). Tall (dwarfed by Galadriel and…blue robed elf who was probably her husband) and angelic. She floated toward us in an aqua green gown and approached Haldir. Speaking to one another in soft tones, the Marchwarden ceased the conversation and then looked over directly at me.

"Mistress Bella," he spoke, any earlier animosity hidden away, "This lady shall take you to the private baths. After which, you shall be escorted to where the Olympic coven is roomed."

At this announcement, all the guys turned and seemed to suddenly realize that my appearance was indeed a catastrophe.

For whatever tortured reason, I solely met Legolas' eyes and found his searching over my entire person. When they directed toward the crown of my head, I felt my stomach drop and clenched my arm muscles to keep at bay the urge to reach up and hug my head away from his gaze.

When he noticed my own staring back, the elf turned his face to the ground in what might have been shame (on the other hand, he was probably just sick of looking the dump of a female…alright, enough self-pity Bella…who gives a rip what the perfect elf prince with the sky blue eyes thinks anyway?). Releasing my chewed-up lip, I lifted my chin at their gazes and walked unabashfully toward the elf maiden as if the word "filthy" did even exist in my vocabulary.

"Bella," his voice spoke up as Legolas stepped in my direction.

Crap. Keep composure. Do not reach for hair to pull it all out.

Allowing myself the indulgence of biting my bottom lip again for a moment, I turned my head to face His Royal Highness and concentrated my thoughts on not imagining all the mean, verbal insults running through his head but focusing instead on my feet not leaping off the bridge a fraying panic.

"Yeah?"

Knees locked in place. Face interested yet unaffected. Way to keep it together, Swan.

Legolas stopped right in front of my and opened his mouth to say something…then hesitated.

During my mortal years, at this point, my heart would have been hitting a record high and I probably would have upchucked on his elf boots.

Vampire Bella, though, she's totally cool with close proximity to unworldly attractive elfin royalty.

Finally find words to speak, he motioned at my waste and said, "Your weaponry. Shall I take care of it while you…clean up?"

"S-sure. Yeah!" I started nodding like it meant life or death and worked needlessly fast to unhinge the short sword on my belt and grab the twin knives from my boots. Handing them over to awaiting hands, I gave Legolas a quick grin then turned back to the elf maiden.

Her and Haldir were staring back at us as if Legolas and I had just gotten done with an elaborate high five or something just as out-of-place and awkward.

"Let's go," I threw my arms out at the lady, ready to physically push her on her way.

Without meeting Legolas' face again, I gave the rest of the guys a quick wave goodbye.

"I'll meet up with you and the Cullen's later," Jake said with a wink (I sent him an eye growl in thanks for it).

My less that sane appearance and that – whatever- that occurred with all my freaking out and Legolas suddenly becoming a gentleman must have offered a not so stellar review for my character since the elf maiden didn't speak one word to me as she took pains to stay several feet ahead as she led me down a different tree stairway. Once on the ground, we weaved past many of the football-field trees to an area walled off with stone bricks covered in flowering vines. She led me along the wall until we can to a walk-in passage that's direct sight inward was blocked by intentional positions of large shrubs. Stepping pasts the shrubs, I found myself in a large garden of several waterfalls, fountains, and pools of water. Some emitted steam from their heated contents and each smelled of different arrays of flowers and minerals. From various spots grew willow-type trees with flowery tendrils laying low to block the view of areas of pools for privacy purposes.

The answers to my prayers. An elfish bath house – garden – whatever.

I fixed my eyes directly into my elf guide's soft, green backside so to avoid accidentally getting a view of some naked elf (hopefully female…I'm praying for female….if these end up being coed baths, I'll keep the rat hair) exposing herself in the nudey nude.

One of the last bathes in the garden was a cold one with a fountain spring trickling fresh smelling water slightly scented with salts and minerals. Silver and golden lamps, bottles, and containers sat scattered along the side of the pool alongside a small pile of folded towels.

Apparently word got ahead of our arrival. Great service. Employees lack certain bedside manner though.

Gesturing to the obvious pool of bathing water before us (as if I'd been staring at the sky the entire time), the maiden then bowed to me and left quite abruptly.

"Thank you," I called after her disappearing aqua green gown.

Tart.

The oh-so-close opportunity of refreshing and replenishing liquid heaven kept any annoyance at her handicap in people skills from becoming a problem.

I was going to enjoy this.

Glancing around one time, I gave a half-hearted effort to assure my brain there wasn't an audience around. Then, not bothering to care if I rip any of it (save the durable boots that were living up to Arwen's praise), I peeled off the mucky layers of stained, soiled travel garb. Dumping them in a pile beside my carefully placed boots, I allow apprehension towards a possible Peeping-Tom incident to fall away and took in the feel of fresh, clean air against my naked pores and soft, fertile grass cushioned under my feet.

Closing my eyes to concentrate on the feel of cold liquid against my toes and ankle, I dipped a foot into the pool and relished in the welcomed sensation. Instantly the rest of my flesh called to the water and I plunged feet-first in. Happily, the deepest portion of the small pool stepped down to the level that the water reached up to my forehead (logically this was so since your average female elf was about half a foot taller than me).

At first, I simply bobbed under the water; letting my muscles relax in the bath. With the whole of my being letting go of restraint, my brain began to flow with the slow current of the fountain-pressured water.

For the first time in a long while, some real privacy was given. In this underwater haven, there was no Ring of Power, no Balrog, no elves, no rangers, and only one vampire. Instead of my life being bombarded by other supernaturals, I found myself surrounded by ghosts.

Ghosts of Arwen's forlonging tears as the love of her life walked away.

Boromir's fear of his own weakness.

Gimli losing his cousin.

Frodo's graven face struggling to keep up hope every single day since leaving Imladris.

Sam's unwavering and humble loyalty to his friends.

Aragorn's emotional immobility that balanced out the rest of the Fellowship's hysterical breakdowns.

Legolas' pain at having to relive the loss of Gandalf.

Gandalf…Gandalf's order to continue. To push past our tears, fears, struggles, emotions, and pain. The ghosts of that wizard's honest to goodness faith that we were always stronger than all our weaknesses. Stronger even than the stupid, repulsive piece of crap Ring in Frodo's pocket.

After about twenty minutes suspended underwater, the past few months silently replaying in a self-debrief through my mind's eyes, I decided to actually begin washing and pushed my toes, from the stone bottom of the pool, towards the edge where all the bottles of sweet smelling potions sat. Opening and sniffing one after another, I recognized a few from the washroom provided by Elrond's household. In the fourth container, I screwed off the glass top and found a cream Tinu (awww…miss her) had introduced me to as an excellent hair cleanser. It smelled of honey butter and rain and literally heated up hair upon contact, easily washing away after dirt and/or orc waste. Scooping a larger than needed wad into my fingers, I carefully scrubbed it into the drenched knots and felt the films of blood and demon octopus guts fall away from my hair.

I must have gone through the same hair routine three times before switching to body wash. With a body brush with gentle teeth and a liquid soap scented similarly to cherry blossoms, the next hour was spent scrubbing and re-scrubbing every inch and crevice of my epidermis. Satisfied that the smells of dwarf graveyards, orc saliva, and Balrog ash were as fumigated as much as possible for the present (some smells you just had to give time to go away completely), I set down the HAZMAT tools and dunked myself under the water again to savor the reacquired feel of a clean body.

Oooohhhh…it felt good.

Coming up to the surface, I wiped soaked strands of sweet smelling hair from my face and sighed both in relaxation and recognition that this haven was only temporary.

I had a family to visit and a Fellowship to checkup on.

Kicking over to the edge where the pile of towels sat, I put a hand on the top one and glanced around from options in clothes.

The art of towel toga was not in my gifts, and no way was I running around these woods in a wrapped towel, soaking wet.

To my dissatisfaction and fear, the only apparent choices were either a towel or my soiled scrapes of traveler's clothes.

Crap. Not good.

Perhaps I could run around at top vamp speed and raid some elf's closet.

I'm sure Little Miss Sunshine Guide from before wouldn't miss one of her many nursery color appropriate gowns.

"Salutations, naked one. Looking for something?"

I screamed and immediately grabbed for a towel to cover my naked chest.

_AN: Who has walked in on our birthday-suited heroine? Tune in next time to find out. And please tip your author with a review._


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